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MANON   PHLIPON  ROLAND 

(EARLY  YEARS) 


"  En  nous  jaisant  naitre  a  Vepoque  de  la  liberte  naissante,  le  sort 
nous  a  places  comme  les  enjants  perdus  de  I'armee  qui  doit  combattre 
pour  elle,  et  la  f aire  triompher  ;  c'esi  a  nous  de  bien  faire  notre  tache 
et  preparer  ainsi  le  bonheur  des  generations  suivantes.^' 

—Madame  Roland. 

"Non,  la  patrie  n'est  pas  un  mot;  c'est  un  etre  auquel  on  a  fait 
des  sacrifices,  a  qui  I'on  s^ attache  chaque  jour  par  les  sollicitudes  qu'il 
cause,  qu'on  a  cree  par  de  grands  eforts,  qui  s'eleve  au  milieu  des 
inquietudes  et  qu'on  aime  autant  par  ce  qu'il  coute  que  par  ce  qu'on 
en  espere.  — Madame  Roland. 


THE  PORTRAIT  OF  MADAME  ROLAND 

Supposed  to  be  "Le  Camee  de  Langlois" 


MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 


EARLY   YEARS 


BY 

EVANGELINE  WILBOUR  BLASHFIELD 

AtJTHOR  or  "portraits  and  backgrounds,"  "liASQUES  OF  CUPID," 
"ITALIAN  CITIES  "  (WJIH  MR.  BLASHFIELD),  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED   WITH    PORTRAITS   AND   VIEWS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1922 


COPtWGHT,   1922,   BY 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Published  February.  1922 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

Introductory ix 

By  Edwin  Rowland  Blashfield 

CHAPTER 

I.    The  Portrait  of  the  Memoirs i 

II.    Parentage  and  Childhood i6 

III.  Austerity  and  Frivolity 30 

IV.  Religious  Doubts 50 

V.    First  Suitors 75 

VI.    Family  and  Social  Relations 112 

VII.     Bereavement  and  New  Friends 133 

VIII.    Roland  de  la  Platiere 152 

IX.    Courtship  and  Marriage 182 

X.    DoMi  Mansit — EuDORA 206 

XI.    From  Amiens  to  Lyons 223 

XII.    Le  Clos,  Villefranche,  and  Lyons 242 

XIII.  Rumblings  before  the  Storm 270 

XIV.  "La  Revolution  Vint  et  Nous  Enflamma"  .    .    .  298 
XV.    Bancal  des  Issarts 311 

Appendixes — 

I.    The  Portraits  of  Madame  Roland  ....  337 

II.    Madam  Roland's  Style 348 

III.  Madame  Roland's  Veracity 350 

IV.  Character  of  the  Assembly 369 

V.    The  Girondins 371 

VI.    The  Methods  of  the  Mountain 378 

VII.    The  Salon  of  Madame  Roland  .381 

v 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  portrait  of  Madame  Roland  supposed  to  be  "Le  Camee 
de  Langlois" Frontispiece 

FAUMC   PACE 

Gatien  Phlipon,  father  of  Madame  Roland l8 

Pastel  by  Latour,  in  the  Museum  of  Lyons 

The  Bonneville  engraving  of  Madame  Roland 34 

House  in  which  Madame  Roland  lived  as  a  girl 50 

On  the  Quai  de  I'Horloge  and  the  Pont  Neuf 

La  Place  Dauphine  in  1608,  showing  the  Roland  house  at  the 

left 52 

From  an  old  print 

Terminal  bust  called  portrait  of  Madame  Roland 80 

Sculptured  by  Chinard  and  now  in  the  Edmond  Aynard  Col- 
lection at  Lyons 

Marie  Marguerite  Bimont,  mother  of  Madame  Roland  ...       88 

Pastel  by  Latour,  in  the  Museum  of  Lyons 

J.  M.  Roland  de  la  Platiere,  inspector  of  manufactures  at 

Lyons 154 

Engraved  by  Lemoine  in  1779 

So-called  physionotrace  profile  of  Madame  Roland   ....      208 

From  a  colored    engraving   lately   acquired   by   the   Musee 
Carnavalet 

Madame  Roland 224 

From  a  portrait  drawing  in  the  possessioa  of  her  family 

L.  A.  G.  Bosc 256 

Taken  from  the  volume,  Le  Natvralisie  Bosc,  by  Auguste  Rey 

Jean  Marie  Roland  de  la  Platiere,  Minister  of  the  Interior  .      268 

From  a  portrait  drawn  and  engraved  by  Nicolas  Colbert 
vii 


viii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

Madame  Roland 272 

From  a  drawing  by  Danloux,  in  the  National  Library  of  Paris 
(Faugere  Legacy) 

Portrait  of  Roland 280 

Drawn  by  Gabriel  in  1792 

Statue  of  Madame  Roland 302 

From  the  study  for  the  statue  of  Madame  Roland  which  is 
now  in  a  niche  on  the  southern  side  of  the  exterior  of  the 
Hotel  de  Ville  in  Paris 

Portrait  of  Brissot 308 


INTRODUCTORY 

If  Mrs.  Blashfield  had  lived  she  would  have  com- 
pleted her  study  of  Madame  Roland  by  the  addition 
of  another  volume.  She  left  a  large  quantity  of  notes 
but  they  are  mainly  memoranda  and  useless  without 
her  own  interpretation  and  elaboration.  Among  them 
are  the  records  of  hundreds  of  facts  with  their  dates, 
suggestions,  juxtapositions,  paradoxes,  confrontations, 
rough  sketches  of  programme,  followed  by  more  elabo- 
rated sketches.  But  even  these  last  are  still  rough- 
hewn  stones  which  need  the  thought  with  which  she 
cemented  her  materials  as  she  built  her  spaciously 
planned  edifice.  With  a  few  exceptions,  therefore, 
reproduced  as  Appendixes,  it  has  been  necessary  to 
leave  her  text  unsupplemented  and  as  she  left  it.  She 
had  however  carefully  revised  what  she  finished,  and 
the  fragment  which  technically  this  must  be  called 
stands  as  she  would  have  had  it.  It  also  has  a  unity 
of  its  own,  since  it  completes  the  early  history  of  its 
heroine  and  leaves  her  on  the  threshold  of  her  public 
career. 

As  was  to  be  expected,  moreover,  the  public  career 
of  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  the  women  who  have 
had  one  inevitably  influences  the  account  of  her  youth 
by  any  one  who  has  made  her  maturity  the  subject 
of  prolonged  and  elaborate  study.  The  result  of  such 
study  was  to  make  of  Mrs.  Blashfield,  at  first  no 
doubt  somewhat  romanticallv  attached  to  so  romantic 


X  INTRODUCTORY 

a  figure  as  the  Egeria  of  the  Gironde,  a  convinced 
partisan.  She  remained,  however,  a  singularly  open- 
minded,  as  well  as,  it  may  be  added,  an  extremely 
well-armed  one.  She  warmed  to  the  defense  of  her 
heroine  and  states  the  case  for  her  with  the  genuine 
polemic  zest  that  not  only  disdains  to  suppress  but 
delights  to  confute  hostile  criticism.  She  was  quite 
ready  to  take  up  instances  of  underestimation  or  flip- 
pant or  unjust  censure  of  Madame  Roland.  It  has 
been  possible  to  save  from  her  notes  and  cite  in  her 
own  words  one  or  two  such  instances,  but  in  many, 
many  cases  in  her  talks  with  me  she  has  referred  to 
misinterpretations  or  lack  of  appreciation  which  she 
meant  to  touch  upon  but  in  relation  to  which  she  has 
set  nothing  down  on  paper. 

That  she  would  have  more  elaborately  controverted 
the  severities  of  M.  Aulard  and  others  is  certain. 
Many  of  the  pages  in  her  copies  of  Aulard's  books 
are  marked  for  reference  almost  from  corner  to  corner. 
But  criticism  of  Madame  Roland  is  mainly,  of  course, 
concerned  with  her  conduct  and  mental  attitude  in 
relation  to  events  an  account  of  which  could  find  its 
place  only  in  that  second  volume  which  the  author 
was  destined  not  to  write.  Her  discussion  of  such 
criticism  being  thus  in  the  main  necessarily  deferred 
is  regrettably,  and  would  have  seemed  to  her  griev- 
ously, incomplete.  On  the  other  hand,  in  Appendix  V 
there  is  a  hint  of  her  sympathy  with  Aulard's  and 
Louvet's  strictures  upon  the  oratory  of  the  Girondins, 
and  more  than  a  hint  that  she  should  devote  much 
attention  to  that  detail  of  her  subject.  Dauban  she 
followed  attentively  through  many  volumes,  but  among 


INTRODUCTORY  xi 

writers  upon  her  heroine,  perhaps  the  attitude  of  Vatel 
is  most  nearly  her  own.  And  her  own,  after  all,  re- 
lied chiefly  on  an  instinctive  interpretation  and  argued 
analysis  of  the  ultimate  sources  of  her  biography,  viz., 
the  Lettres  and  especially  the  Memoires  de  Madame 
Roland,  with  their  various  subdivisions  of  Memoires 
Particuliers,  Portraits  et  Anecdotes,  Notices  Histo- 
riques,  etc.,  of  which  she  used  many  different  edi- 
tions. 

The  congeniaHty  of  her  subject  perhaps  sharpened 
the  curiosity  and  the  conscientiousness  with  which 
she  studied  it  on  all  sides,  and  investigated  all  sources 
of  information  that  bore  upon  it.  To  most  of  the  ma- 
terial vestiges,  the  backgrounds  of  plains  and  hills  of 
brick  and  mortar  which  framed  Madame  Roland's 
life,  Mrs.  Blashfield  paid  personal  visits.  We  went 
together  to  Amiens,  Lyons,  Villefranche,  drove  over 
the  hills  of  the  Beaujolais  to  the  Clos  de  la  Platiere, 
and  in  the  forest  of  Montmorenci  visited  Sainte  Rade- 
gonde  where  Madame  Roland's  manuscript  for  a  time 
lay  hidden.  We  followed  her  Girondist  friends  south- 
west, to  that  strange  town,  fascinating  at  once  through 
its  history  and  its  picturesqueness.  Saint  Emilion, 
with  its  rock-cut  church  and  houses,  its  mediaeval 
ramparts,  its  climbing,  crooked  streets.  We  looked 
down  the  famous  dry  well,  went  through  the  house 
where  in  the  attics  the  men  who  had  roused  Paris 
and  the  provinces  lay  cramped  and  suffocated  or  frozen, 
fugitive  victims  of  the  license  which  was  stifling  the 
lately  found  liberty. 

In  Paris  itself  the  quarters  in  which  the  comings 
and  goings  of  both  Manon  Phlipon  and  Madame  Ro- 


xii  INTRODUCTORY 

land  de  la  Platiere  were  most  frequent  have  changed 
greatly,  have  been  opened  up  and  are  dotted  with 
breathing  spaces.  Yet  much  remains  of  the  revolu- 
tionary Paris  and  upon  the  very  edge  of  the  left  bank 
of  the  Seine,  the  greatest  breathing  space  of  all,  still 
stands  the  house  that  sheltered  Manon's  girlhood — a 
really  handsome  object  full  of  style  and  character, 
built  of  the  cream-colored  stone  which  aids  in  making 
Paris  so  beautiful  and  which  lends  itself  so  delight- 
fully to  the  caress  of  time.  Many  years  ago  when  we 
went  to  Vasse,  on  the  Quai  Malaquais,  for  a  photo- 
graph of  it  he  admitted  that  in  his  great  collection 
not  one  reproduction  of  the  house  existed  save  in 
general  views. 

His  photographer  went  with  us  and  made  several 
negatives  from  different  angles,  one  of  which  is  used 
in  this  volume.  Since  then  photographic  reproductions 
have  been  published  more  than  once,  but  at  that  time 
there  were  few,  if  any.  In  Lyons,  negatives  of  the 
pastel  portraits  of  the  father  and  mother  of  Madame 
Roland  were  also  made  expressly  for  Mrs.  Blashfield, 
and  appear  in  this  book. 

An  effort  has  been  made  throughout  the  volume  to 
select  as  illustrations  such  portraits  as  the  author  would 
have  chosen  from  the  large  number  of  prints  existing 
at  the  Musee  Carnavalet,  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale, 
and  elsewhere.  The  "Heinsius  portrait"  (so-called)  in 
the  Museum  of  Versailles,  has  been  left  out  of  the  list 
partly  because  it  has  been  so  frequently  pubHshed, 
partly  because  of  Mrs.  Blashfield's  disHke  of  its  com- 
monness. Descendants  of  Madame  Roland  have  pro- 
tested against  its  attribution  and  Monsieur  Pierre  de 


INTRODUCTORY  xiii 

Nolhac  smilingly  promised  Mrs.  Blashfield  that  in  the 
forthcoming  catalogue  of  the  gallery,  a  question-mark 
should  follow  the  title  of  the  portrait.  The  famous 
"Buzot  medallion"  and  the  chalk  drawing  from  the 
Chateau  de  la  Rosiere  (from  which  David  d'Angers's 
profile  in  relief  was  evidently  made)  have  been  in- 
cluded on  account  of  their  importance  and  almost  un- 
doubted authenticity. 

A  special  negative  was  made  for  the  author  from 
the  rather  recently  acquired  "Danloux  portrait,"  in 
the  Bibliotheque  Nationale.  As  for  the  reproduction 
of  the  "physionotrace  profile"  its  ugliness  and  hard- 
ness make  it  difficult  to  say  whether  Mrs.  Blashfield 
would  have  admitted  it  to  her  book.  In  Paris,  in  the 
summer  of  1921,  the  Musee  Carnavalet  had  only  a 
short  time  before  received  a  copy  of  this  rare  print, 
which  M.  Boucher,  the  curator,  kindly  allowed  me  to 
photograph.  The  process  of  the  physionotrace  was 
popular  in  the  years  which  immediately  preceded  and 
followed  the  birth  of  the  nineteenth  century,  but  it 
has  been  so  forgotten  that  one  of  the  leading  photog- 
raphers of  Paris  questioned  me  with  interest  as  to  the 
little  I  had  learned  concerning  it.  The  result  obtain- 
able from  it,  as  in  the  case  of  a  silhouette  made  from 
an  ombre  portee  is  only  nominally  correct  and  would 
depend  in  part  on  the  skill,  Hght-handedness,  and  art- 
knowledge  of  the  executant.  It  becomes  easy  unduly 
to  emphasize  the  outlines,  and  in  the  case  of  the  print 
at  the  Carnavalet  the  color  which  has  been  added  to 
it  tends  to  make  the  photograph  harder  and  coarser. 

Madame  Roland's  fame  easily  accounts  for  the  num- 
ber of  prints  or  reliefs  referring  to  her;   nearly  all  are 


xiv  INTRODUCTORY 

in  profile  and  have  among  them  pretty  pieces  of  en- 
graving (those  of  Dien,  Gaucher,  etc.).  Some  of  these 
were  perhaps  drawn  from  nature,  most  of  them  were 
evidently  made  one  from  another  with  occasional 
variations  as  to  hair  or  head-dress.  Several  busts 
have  been  attributed  as  portraits  but  no  mention  exists 
of  any  of  them  in  Madame  Roland's  writings.  We 
went  to  Nevers  to  see  the  bust,  brought  to  notice  there 
by  M.  Louis  Gonse.  In  the  poor  light  of  the  over- 
full museum  it  was  difficult  to  see  it  well;  it  seems 
too  sharp-featured  and  hard  to  be  convincing,  and 
one  notes  that  the  attribution  has  been  removed  from 
the  later  printed  reproductions  of  it.  In  the  interest- 
ing bust  by  Morin  published  on  page  407  of  La  Revo- 
lution Fran9aise,  from  the  series  of  historical  albums 
by  M.  Armand  Dayot,  Inspecteur  General  des  Beaux 
Arts,  the  piquant  upturned  corner  of  the  mouth,  so 
typical  of  most  of  the  portraits,  is  missing  and  the  nose 
appears  sharp,  rather  than  broad  at  the  end  as  Ma- 
dame Roland  describes  it.  The  smiling  mouth  reap- 
pears in  the  handsome  Pajou  bust  at  Bagatelle  lent 
from  the  collection  of  M.  Lucien  Kraemer,  yet  it  is  not 
wholly  easy  to  accept  it  as  a  portrait.  The  terminal 
bust  portrait  in  the  Aynard  collection  at  Lyons  by 
Chinard  is  charming.  Chinard  was  a  friend  of  the 
Rolands,  and  deeply  indebted  to  madame  for  her  in- 
tervention in  relation  to  his  imprisonment  for  political 
reasons  by  the  Pope,  but  the  lovely  head  seems  to  be 
almost  that  of  a  little  girl. 

The  pretty  curly-haired  child  sold  on  postal  cards 
at  the  Carnavalet  seems  to  me  in  its  style  too  late  to 
be  convincing,  but  M.  Boucher  told  me  that  certain 


INTRODUCTORY  xv 

experts  saw  reasons  for  accepting  it.  The  "Madame 
Roland  seated  on  a  sofa  and  with  a  little  dog,"  shown 
in  a  retrospective  exposition  at  Paris  some  years  ago 
and  chronicled  in  Les  Arts,  I  have  not  seen  and  it 
was  not  forthcoming  as  a  reproduction  after  diligent 
search.  As  for  the  drawing  in  the  Bibliotheque  made 
by  an  unskilful  hand  and  inscribed  as  "J.  M.  P.  Ro- 
land, dessine  a  la  conciergerie,"  it  shows  an  exaggera- 
tion of  the  typical  upturned  mouth-corner  and  rather 
protuberant  eyes  with  arched  brows,  but  does  not 
bear  out  the  words  of  her  fellow  prisoners,  Beugnot 
and  others,  as  to  her  wearing  the  hair  always  loosely 
floating  upon  her  shoulders.  On  the  whole,  though 
the  acknowledged  magic  of  her  voice  and  constant 
play  of  expression  are  absent,  we  can  from  the  written 
descriptions  and  the  prints  make  up  for  ourselves  a 
fair  composite  suggestion  of  the  features  of  the  most 
famous  woman  and  one  of  the  most  famous  figures 
of  a  tremendous  drama. 

Edwin  Rowland  Blashfield. 

January  i,  1922. 


CHAPTER    I 
THE    PORTRAIT   OF   THE    MEMOIRS 

To  write  anew  of  one  who  has  been  so  celebrated 
not  only  by  her  contemporaries  but  by  their  successors 
seems  perhaps  superfluous.  She  who  has  received  the 
civic  crown  from  Quinet,  Michelet,  Louis  Blanc,  and 
Carlyle,  whose  house  bears  a  commemorative  tablet, 
whose  statue  stands  on  the  fa9ade  of  the  town  hall  of 
Paris,  may  be  considered  so  securely  established  in 
her  niche  in  history  that  further  criticism  or  comment 
is  redundant. 

Time,  however,  has  its  revelations  as  well  as  its 
revenges.  Following  in  the  footsteps  of  the  great  har- 
vesters an  aftermath  may  be  gleaned.  More  than  a 
century  ago  Louvet  published  the  Appeal  to  Impartial 
Posterity  of  the  Citoyenne  Roland.  Forty  years  have 
passed  since  Dauban  and  Faugere  told  the  secret  which 
had  been  so  piously  preserved  by  Madame  Roland's 
family  and  friends.  These  forty  years  have  been  ex- 
tremely prolific  in  the  discovery  of  historical  data 
relating  to  the  French  Revolution.  There  have  been 
changes  in  political  opinion;  families  have  died  out, 
and  consequently  certain  susceptibilities  are  no  longer 
to  be  considered;  private  papers  by  gift  or  sale  have 
become  public  property;  and  domestic  records  have 
attained  the  dignity  of  historical  documents.  Jour- 
nals, letters,  and  household  chronicles,  as  well  as  secret 
archives,  spies'  reports,  and  diplomats'  despatches  are 


2  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

now  open  to  the  curious.  To-day  no  epoch  can  be 
studied  more  closely  than  that  which  Matthew  Arnold 
discriminatingly  termed  the  most  animating  in  his- 
tory. 

It  was  indeed  not  only  the  most  animating  but  a 
unique  moment  in  the  evolution  of  mankind,  in  which 
nothing  happened  as  it  had  ever  happened  before. 
Only  the  unexpected  occurred,  the  amazing  became 
the  normal,  and  the  impossible  was  the  order  of  the 
day.  A  year  counted  as  a  lustrum,  so  crowded  was  it 
with  events.  Speculation  was  instantly  translated 
into  action.  Theory  was  precipitated  into  practice. 
The  written  word  quickened  into  the  spoken  word, 
and  the  spoken  word  into  the  immediate  deed.  Life 
moved  at  a  quickstep.  An  episode  grew  into  a  drama, 
and  a  drama  into  a  tragedy;  protagonist  and  chorus 
shifted  roles  with  bewildering  celerity;  at  a  moment's 
notice  the  "super"  of  a  first  became  the  star  of  a  second 
act.  The  butcher  of  yesterday  played  the  victim  of 
to-day.  Princesses  scrubbed  floors,  adventuresses 
trafficked  in  heads  and  fortunes,  and  great  ladies 
trudged  as  camp-followers  behind  officers  in  wadded 
petticoats.  Infantry  captured  fleets,  and  victory 
marched  in  the  ranks  of  famished  tatterdemalions. 

On  the  swift  current  of  events  we  are  swept  from 
surprise  to  mystery,  from  mystery  to  enigma,  drawn 
on  by  the  lure  of  the  unforeseen.  Despite  Taine's 
analyses  of  the  Revolution's  origins,  notwithstanding 
Sorel's  lucid  and  philosophical  explanations  of  its  im- 
mediate and  remote  causes,  of  its  inevitability,  in  fine, 
and  Jaures's  insistence  on  its  economic  aspects,  the 
great   movement,  eluding   classification   and   arrange- 


THE   PORTRAIT  OF  THE  MEMOIRS        3 

ment,  retains  the  fascination  of  the  impenetrable. 
And  the  Revolution  is  not  ended.  It  is  not  a  past  issue. 
We  have  not  solved  all  its  problems  or  answered  its 
questions.  The  rights  of  man  are  still  to  define,  the 
social  contract  is  yet  to  be  made.  The  sphinx  of  the 
Revolution  crouches  in  our  path. 

To-day  its  economic  history  is  emerging  through 
the  publication  of  documents  from  municipal  registers 
and  provincial  archives.*  A  new  continent  of  special 
knowledge  is  open  to  the  explorer,  of  measureless  value 
to  the  historian  of  democracy.  The  Revolution's  hoard 
of  precious  material  for  savant  and  student  is  inex- 
haustible. As  the  soil  of  Egypt  after  centuries  of  ex- 
cavation still  yields  riches  to  the  treasure-seeker,  each 
season  welcomes  the  publication  of  some  work  based 
on  documents  from  recently  discovered  stores. 

Modern  research,  though  it  has  not  radically  changed 
our  estimates  of  the  prominent  figures  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, or  invalidated  the  judgment  of  its  famous  his- 
torians, has  often  modified  them.  Naturally  enough 
the  importance  of  recent  discoveries  has  been  magnified 
owing  to  the  present  tendency  to  reverse  the  decrees 
of  the  past,  to  smirch  quondam  saints,  and  to  bleach 
ci-devant  sinners.  But,  though  the  minute  investiga- 
tion of  modern  scholarship  has  resulted  in  no  special 
transformation  of  opinion,  it  has  profoundly  altered 
the  general  attitude  of  mind  towards  all  historical  work, 
and  has  supplied  a  new  modus  and  a  new  standard  to 
the  historian.  A  habit  of  cautious  verification,  un- 
hesitating   rejection    of    statements    unsupported    by 

*  Collection  des  documents  inedits  sur  Vhistoire  economique  de  la  revdu- 
tion  franqaise. 


4  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

documentary  evidence,  a  disposition  to  lean  more 
confidingly  on  a  single  fact  than  on  a  general  belief, 
a  growing  distrust  of  the  dramatic  presentation  of 
events,  are  gradually  changing  what  was  once  litera- 
ture into  science. 

Gradually  only,  however.  The  method  is  young. 
The  destructive  instinct  of  extreme  youth  is  not  en- 
tirely outgrown.  The  denials  are  less  temperately 
phrased  than  the  assertions.  The  significance  of  a 
small  recent  discovery  is  rated  above  that  of  the  more 
important  but  familiar  fact.  The  present  levelling 
tendency  is  not  sufficiently  curbed.  Style  and  elo- 
quence are  regarded  with  suspicion,  as  though  they 
were  necessarily  misleading.  But  these  are  the  de- 
fects of  qualities  which  further  development  will  cor- 
rect. 

The  scientific  method  has  not  yet  discrowned  the 
queen  of  the  Gironde.  The  most  distinguished  living 
historian  of  the  Revolution,  M.  Aulard,  still  considers 
her  the  Egeria  of  her  political  party,  or  rather  a  golden- 
voiced  siren  defied  and  punished  by  sage  Ulysses-Dan- 
ton,  who  lured  the  wise  and  eloquent,  as  well  as  the 
young  and  enthusiastic,  to  shipwreck  on  the  rocks  of 
an  impossible  Utopia. 

To  Morse  Stephens  Madame  Roland  is  the  am- 
bitious leader  of  a  salon  of  the  Opposition.  To  Mr. 
Belloc  "Roland's  wife  is  the  one  character  which 
could  have  prevented  Danton's  ascendancy,  and  have 
met  his  ugly  strength  by  a  force  as  determined  and 
more  refined."  Mr.  Austin  Dobson,  who  occasionally 
takes  swallow-like  dips  into  the  waters  of  history, 
considers  Madame  Roland  as  "man  by  the  head  and 


THE  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  MEMOIRS        5 

woman  by  the  heart,"  though  he  prefers  Madame 
de  Lamballe,  as  is  natural  to  a  poet  who  confesses 
himself  "not  at  ease  with  tragic  and  majestic  figures," 
and  in  their  presence  longs  "for  the  over-sexed  woman 
of  Rivarol."  M.  Perroud,  the  latest  editor  of  the 
Roland  memoirs  and  letters,  refrains  entirely  from 
personal  judgments  and  contents  himself  with  ex- 
haustive annotation  and  careful  emendation  of  his 
author's  text.  His  researches  have  furnished  the  most 
valuable  additions  to  our  knowledge  of  Madame  Roland 
since  Dauban's  work  appeared  in  1867.  No  writer 
unites  more  genuine  enthusiasm  for  his  subject  with  a 
more  detached  attitude  towards  it,  and  modern  ob- 
jectivity finds  no  worthier  expositor.  Yet  the  impos- 
ing figure  of  the  Girondin  lady  remains  heroic  in  his 
documented  pages. 

The  popular  M.  Lenotre,  who  illustrates,  pushed  to 
its  remotest  limit,  another  modern  tendency — devout 
contemplation  of  detail — has  applied  his  microscope 
to  Madame  Roland,  or  rather  to  her  furniture  and  her 
old  clothes.  To  a  list  of  the  chairs  and  curtains  in 
her  apartment  of  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  and  of  the 
worn  garments  left  in  the  wardrobe  when  she  was 
carried  oflP  to  prison,  he  appends  an  appreciation  of 
the  owner's  character  and  aims.  This  sketch,  though 
scarcely  more  valuable  than  the  discarded  gowns  it 
minutely  describes,  and  curiously  hostile  in  tone,  does 
not  deny  to  its  subject  the  power  and  charm  that  im- 
pressed every  one  of  her  contemporaries  who  came 
within  the  magic  circle  of  her  influence.  Courage, 
eloquence,  elevated  enthusiasm  are  accorded  to  her 
even  by  those  who,  through  class  prejudice  or  a  kind 


6  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

of  belated  snobbishness,  are  inclined  to  judge  harshly 
** the  ambitious  bourgeoise,"  the  commoner  who  aspired 
to  play  the  aristocrat. 

Indeed,  it  almost  seems  as  if  the  attraction  that 
swayed  the  minds  of  men  in  her  own  day  had  en- 
dured, and  that  every  writer  who  came  near  this  puis- 
sant personality  submitted  to  the  spell  of  her  grace, 
or  the  force  of  her  spirit.  Royalist,  Montagnard,  Ter- 
rorist, Reactionary,  as  divided  in  opinion  among  them- 
selves as  they  are  from  the  Girondin  leaders,  subscribe 
grudgingly  or  cordially  to  the  dictum  of  Antonelle, 
her  political  opponent:  "(9  Roland,  la  plus  seduisante 
des  femmeSy  le  plus  grand  des  hommes.'* 

The  "grand  homme"  is  raised  on  a  pedestal  to  be 
observed  and  judged  by  every  one;  the  seduisante 
femme  is  less  known.  All  the  world  has  seen  the  palms 
laid  at  the  feet  of  the  heroine,  few  have  noted  the 
tender  tributes  of  friends  and  comrades  to  the  charm- 
ing woman.  It  is  to  the  more  intimate  knowledge  of 
her  character  rather  than  of  her  acts  or  her  influence 
that  the  research  of  the  last  few  years  has  contributed. 
M.  Join-Lambert's  publication  of  the  correspondence 
of  M.  and  Mme.  Roland  before  their  marriage, 
M.  Perroud's  discovery  of  the  souvenirs  of  Madame 
Sophie  Grandchamp,  and  his  monumental  editions  of 
Madame  Roland's  letters  are  the  most  important  of 
several  publications  that  form  a  valuable  commentary 
on  her  own  Memoirs. 

As  yet,  however,  in  spite  of  new  matter,  Madame 
Roland  remains  her  own  best  biographer,  and  any 
study  of  her  life  and  work,  or  of  the  national  drama 
she  helped  to  make  will  always  return  again  and  again 


THE  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  MEMOIRS       7 

to  her  Memoirs.  Fresh  material  may  supplement,  it 
cannot  supersede  them.  She  speaks  better  for  herself 
than  any  one  can  speak  for  her.  She  tried  to  plead 
her  own  cause  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal. 
She  longed  to  justify  her  husband,  to  exonerate  her 
friends.  She  was  silenced,  as  were  Vergniaud  and  all 
the  golden  tongues  of  her  eloquent  party,  but,  never 
losing  faith  in  human  justice,  she  spent  the  last  months 
of  her  life  in  writing  an  appeal  to  a  more  august  trib- 
unal— "the  judgment,"  in  her  own  words,  "of  Impar- 
tial Posterity." 

Memoirs  were  never  composed  under  greater  stress. 
They  were  written  by  stealth,  in  solitary  confinement, 
under  the  eyes  of  a  watchful  guard,  in  a  tiny,  stifling 
cell,  with  the  shadow  of  the  guillotine  falling  across 
their  pages.  They  cover  quartos  of  coarse  gray  paper 
supplied  by  the  jailer  for  the  prisoners'  correspondence. 
The  sheets  are  closely  written,  for  space  was  valuable 
as  well  as  time,  in  an  elegant,  clear  hand  with  hardly 
an  erasure  or  a  correction,  though  some  of  the  lines 
are  blotted  with  tear-stains.  A  biography  of  this  manu- 
script would  read  Hke  a  romance  of  adventure.  It  was 
smuggled  out  of  prison  under  a  woman's  neckerchief, 
dropped  furtively  into  the  court  from  a  barred  win- 
dow, and  picked  up  by  a  devoted  friend  literally  at 
the  risk  of  his  head.  It  was  hidden  for  months  in  a 
deserted  quarry,  in  the  cleft  of  a  rock  in  the  forest  of 
Montmorency,  and  in  the  hermitage  of  Sainte  Rade- 
gonde.  They  carried  death  in  their  folds  like  the  subtly 
poisoned  billets  of  the  Renaissance,  those  boldly  written 
pages.  Some  of  them  were  burned  in  a  panic  of  fear 
after  the  arrest  of  the  friend  to  whom  they  were  con- 


8  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

fided,  and  some  of  them  were  concealed  within  a  few 
feet  of  the  formidable  Committee  of  Public  Safety. 
When  the  scattered  leaves  were  finally  collected  and 
published  it  was  the  house  friends  of  Madame  Roland, 
Bosc  and  Louvet,  who  gave  them  to  the  world. 

We  owe  the  Memoirs  of  Madame  Roland  to  her 
friends — it  was  their  courage  and  devotion  that  pre- 
served and  transmitted  her  Appeal;  Champagneux, 
Bosc,  Mentelle,  Helena  Williams,  Sophie  Grandchamp 
each  took  up  the  perilous  task  as  suspicion  or  arrest 
fell  upon  one  after  another  of  the  little  group.  The 
contemporaries  of  Madame  Roland  raised  temples  to 
friendship;  the  preservation  of  her  papers  is  not  one 
of  the  least  of  these  monuments. 

The  eighteenth  century — analytical,  self-conscious, 
curious  of  the  things  of  the  mind,  deeply  interested 
in  defining  the  rights  and  the  relations  of  the  individual 
to  the  general  scheme  of  existence — sought  expression 
in  memoirs.  No  age  is  as  rich  in  the  personal  record 
of  events  and  emotions.  As  art  had  turned  to  genre 
and  portraiture,  deserting  Paradise  and  Olympus, 
literature,  responding  even  more  sensitively  to  the 
demands  of  new-born  realism,  was  occupied  with  ac- 
tualities. The  seventeenth  century  had  busied  itself 
with  the  study  of  divinity  and  the  soul  of  man,  the 
eighteenth  century  sought  Hght  in  the  study  of  hu- 
manity and  the  mind  of  man.  BufFon  succeeded  to 
Fenelon,  Rousseau's  Confessions  to  the  Pensees  of 
Pascal;  as  spiritual  guide  the  Enchiridion  of  Epictetus 
replaced  the  Philothee  of  Saint  Francis  de  Sales,  and 
while  the  Lives  of  Plutarch  were  diligently  read,  the 
dust  gathered  on  the  Lives  of  the  Saints. 


THE  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  MEMOIRS       9 

If  the  study  of  man  in  general  was  interesting,  the 
contemplation  of  the  individual  man  was  engrossing. 
That  intimate  homo  that  each  one  of  us  knows,  or  fancies 
he  knows,  best,  became  the  object  of  earnest  contem- 
plation and  brilliant  exposition,  given  the  habit  of 
writing  and  the  perfected  instrument  of  expression 
that  the  French  language  had  become  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  To  inventory  one's  own  person,  to  take  stock 
of  one's  capacities,  to  plumb  the  depths  of  the  heart, 
to  sound  the  shallows  of  the  mind,  to  balance  faults 
and  weaknesses  against  virtues  and  excellences,  to 
cast  this  self-knowledge  in  a  pretty  mould  of  exact 
terms  and  deftly  turned,  epigrammatic  phrases,  was 
an  intellectual  game  constantly  played  in  a  society 
that,  to  the  natural  absence  of  reserve  of  the  Latin, 
united  a  social  instinct  so  highly  developed  that  ret- 
icence was  as  irksome  to  it  as  solitude.  Thus  the 
Portrait,  a  delicately  worded,  penetratingly  observed 
study  in  analysis,  was  a  favorite  diversion  and  a  lit- 
erary exercise  in  polite  circles,  and  memoirs  are  but 
a  further  development  of  the  full-length  portrait  with 
the  addition  of  background  and  minor  figures. 

Memoirs  are  valuable  as  revelations  of  character, 
as  pictures  of  society,  as  contemporary  records  of  events, 
and  as  expressions  of  the  general  spirit  of  their  epoch. 
iiEsthetic  interest  is  superadded  when  they  are  written 
with  style  and  grace.  They  gain  in  importance  as 
the  character  of  the  author  is  remarkable,  as  the  so- 
ciety depicted  is  unusual,  as  the  events  described  are 
noteworthy.  If  a  fine  sense  of  form  governs  the  ar- 
rangement of  material  they  become  belles  lettres  as  well 
as  documents.     Weighed  by  any  of  these  standards  of 


lo  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

value  the  Memoirs  of  Madame  Roland  are  of  capital 
importance,  as  precious  to  the  psychologist  as  to  the 
historian  of  manners,  or  events,  or  letters.  No  docu- 
ment affords  a  more  intimate  view  of  the  Revolution, 
a  more  animated  picture  of  the  life  of  the  bourgeoisie, 
or  a  more  searching  study  of  a  unique  personality — a 
personality  of  whom  a  contemporary,  Lemontey,  wrote: 
**Ci?  nhait  pas  seulement  le  caractere  le  plus  forty  mais 
encore  le  plus  vrai  de  noire  revolution.^' 

The  carefully  finished  portrait  of  the  author  is  only 
one  of  a  series  that  covers  the  ample  canvas  of  the 
Memoirs — portraits  that  are  occasionally  painted  in 
lurid  or  dark  colors,  but  how  keen  is  the  perception, 
how  trenchant  the  characterization !  The  men  who 
made  and  unmade  the  Revolution  have  sat  uncon- 
sciously for  the  clear-eyed  artist.  Dumouriez,  Ver- 
gniaud,  Condorcet,  Danton,  Marat,  Robespierre,  are 
sketched  from  life.  To  turn  the  leaves  of  the  Portraits 
et  Anecdotes  is  like  passing  from  room  to  room,  from 
case  to  case,  of  the  Musee  Carnavalet,  though  no 
piously  guarded  relics,  no  vestiges  of  the  past  care- 
fully arranged  under  glass,  can  compare  as  a  means  of 
evoking  it  with  the  narrative  of  an  eye-witness.  The 
force,  the  fire,  the  irresistible  movement  of  the  Revo- 
lution lives  again  in  Madame  Roland's  pages. 

Memoirs  written  during  the  Terror  are  rare,  those 
of  Meillan,  Brissot,  Barbaroux,  Buzot,  Petion,  Louvet, 
and  Dumouriez  make  but  a  short  list,  and  lack  the 
color  and  impetus,  as  well  as  the  literary  flavor,  of  those 
of  Madame  Roland.  Man}^  of  the  so-called  Revolu- 
tionary memoirs  were  composed  after  Thermidor  and 
during  the  Empire.      Lapses  of  memory,  changes  of 


THE  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  MEMOIRS      ii 

political  opinion,  the  unpopularity  of  republican  ideas, 
and  the  natural  conservatism  of  age  biassed  the  views 
and  affected  the  veracity  of  their  authors,  so  that  their 
souvenirs  are  less  trustworthy  as  well  as  less  attractive 
than  those  hastily  penned  in  the  face  of  events. 

There  is  a  peculiar  charm  in  history  that  has  been 
lived  by  the  historian,  and  there  is  an  intimate  attrac- 
tion in  following  the  evolution  of  the  historian's  mind 
and  character  under  the  influence  of  the  events  re- 
corded. When  Madame  Roland  was  first  imprisoned 
hope  was  strong  in  her;  her  friends  were  free,  raising 
the  Provinces,  gathering  an  army  that  she  hoped  to 
see  enter  Paris,  re-establishing  the  rule  of  law  and  the 
rights  of  all  Frenchmen  against  the  despotism  of  a 
minority.  Through  June  and  July,  sustained  by  letters 
from  Buzot  and  by  visits  from  her  friends,  she  spent 
many  hours  in  writing  an  apologia  for  her  husband's 
policy  as  minister  of  the  interior  and  an  explanation 
of  her  share  in  his  work.  In  August  the  news  of  the 
defeat  of  Wimpfen's  army  and  the  flight  of  the  Girondin 
leaders  bereft  her  of  all  hope.  Her  friends  were  "jwj- 
pects.^'  Champagneux  was  arrested,  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  work  she  had  confided  to  him  was  burned 
in  a  panic  of  terror.  Bosc  had  resigned  his  position 
and  could  see  her  only  rarely.  Grandpre,  watched 
and  hounded,  counted  his  visits.  Her  solitude  was 
almost  unbroken.  She  was  alone  with  her  disillusions 
and  her  sorrows,  her  lost  dreams  of  a  free  and  happy 
republican  France,  her  dead  faith  in  the  noble  aspira- 
tions and  innate  goodness  of  the  people.  Anguish 
far  more  intolerable  even  than  the  loss  of  belief  in 
lofty   ideals    pressed    on    her   heart — the    thought    of 


12  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

her  lover,  a  fugitive  and  an  outlaw  in  hourly  peril  of 
his  life. 

Madame  Roland  since  her  convent  days  had  found 
her  spiritual  guide  under  the  Porch,  but  stoicism, 
though  it  fortifies  the  mind,  cannot  steel  the  heart, 
and  the  lonely  woman,  wounded  in  all  her  affections, 
sought  asylum  from  despair,  not  in  the  Gospels  nor 
in  the  Discourses,  but  in  the  evocation  of  her  own 
youth.  She  stopped  her  ears  against  the  clamor  of 
her  unhappy  time,  and  listened  to  the  voice  of  mem- 
ory. As  she  listened  the  blood-stained  walls  of  her 
fetid  prison  vanished  and  she  was  in  the  dewy  for- 
est of  Meudon  gathering  the  first  violets  of  the  year, 
or  walking  in  the  Jardin  du  Roi  between  the  glow- 
ing flowerbeds  in  a  gay  holiday  throng,  or  in  her  own 
tiny  room  overlooking  the  Seine,  among  her  books — 
young  again,  free  from  the  chains  of  duty  and  the 
tyranny  of  circumstance. 

In  the  Memoires  Particuliers  present  ills  are  ig- 
nored and  public  life  almost  forgotten,  save  only  when 
the  firmly  woven  thread  of  the  narrative  is  broken  by 
a  wail  of  grief,  or  a  cry  of  indignation  at  some  new 
crime  against  liberty  and  justice.  Once  the  paper  is 
abruptly  cut  oflF,  "for  no  one  is  sure  of  living  twenty- 
four  hours." 

Were  it  not  for  these  crosses  that  mark  the  flowery 
path  of  the  narrative  of  sunny  early  years  it  would 
be  difficult  to  realize  that  it  was  the  work  of  one  about 
to  die.  The  envoys  of  the  Mountain  howl  "  Mort  a  la 
jemme  Roland''  under  her  windows,  the  hawkers  of 
the  Pere  Duchesne  shout  their  obscene  calumnies  with- 
in her  hearing:  insult  and  peril  only  speed  her  pen. 


THE  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  MEMOIRS      13 

and  sweeten  and  strengthen  the  memory  of  her  youth. 
And  this  record  of  youthful  days  has  youth's  own  spon- 
taneous and  irresistible  charm.  Here  are  no  echoes 
of  antiquity,  no  Roman  matron's  attitude;  for  the 
moment  Plutarch  is  forgotten  and  Jean  Jacques  re- 
membered. The  citoyenne,  the  austere  republican, 
has  dropped  the  stylus,  and  Manon  Phlipon  has  taken 
up  the  facile  quill  of  her  countrywomen  that  in  her 
hand  becomes  a  wizard's  rod  calling  up  a  vanished 
world.  Gayety,  tenderness,  irony,  frolic  mirth,  a  frank 
abandonment  to  the  young  delight  of  being  alive;  an 
unusual  capacity  for  realizing  past  moods  of  thought 
and  phases  of  feeling,  concise  yet  vivid  bits  of  descrip- 
tion, penetrating  appreciations  of  character,  a  style 
clear  and  sparkling  as  youthful  eyes  that  have  known 
neither  tears  nor  vigils;  a  sureness  of  touch  and  light- 
ness of  hand  that,  in  spite  of  a  didactic  tone  (common 
to  most  of  the  late  eighteenth-century  memoirs),  al- 
ways saves  the  every-day  from  becoming  the  common- 
place; by  such  means  is  the  narrative  of  the  retired, 
uneventful  life  of  a  little  Parisian  bourgeoise  endued 
with  significance  and  distinction. 

How  true  is  her  picture  ?  Did  she  add  to  the  de- 
lineation of  the  girl  that  she  had  been,  the  portrait 
of  the  woman  she  desired  to  be,  or  the  woman  she 
had  become  ?  Did  not  the  amplitude  of  a  matured 
style,  the  reflections  of  a  riper  experience  enrich  the 
records  of  her  obscure  youth  ?  Undoubtedly.  In 
persons  gifted  with  an  abundant  inner  life  the  imagina- 
tion is  such  a  formative  factor,  such  a  reaHty  in  fine, 
that  it  is  impossible  sharply  to  divide  it  from  the  other 
reality  of  fact.    There  is  also  in  every  highly  difFerenti- 


14  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

ated  human  creature  an  ego  that  observes  and  criticises, 
as  well  as  an  ego  that  feels  and  acts.  This  duaHsm  of 
the  personality  inevitably  affects  the  integrity  of  a 
retrospective  narrative  by  unconsciously  imparting  to 
the  primitive  ego  the  larger  views  and  saner  judg- 
ments of  a  further  stage  of  mental  evolution.  Nor 
can  an  autobiographer  escape  a  tendency  to  mould 
his  substance  into  a  fixed  form.  An  author  generally 
possesses  an  ideal  of  art  even  when  his  life  is  void  of 
one.  Every  one  has  his  conventions  even  when  re- 
volting against  convention.  To  be  comprehensible  we 
are  forced  to  employ  accepted  forms;  and  this  obliga- 
tory formality  dominates  the  matter  it  fashions. 

With  these  reservations  Madame  Roland's  account 
of  her  life  may  be  taken  with  less  than  the  proverbial 
grain  of  salt.  When  she  wrote — "The  daughter  of 
an  artist,  born  in  an  obscure  station  but  of  respectable 
parents,  I  spent  my  youth  in  the  bosom  of  the  fine 
arts,  nourished  by  the  delights  of  study,  ignorant  of 
all  superiority  but  that  of  merit,  of  all  greatness  but 
that  of  virtue" — Dauban  observes  that  she  sees  her 
childhood  as  a  mirage.  But  while  the  style  is  romantic 
the  statements  are  indisputable.  She  did  spend  her 
childhood  in  the  studio  of  her  father,  a  master  engraver 
on  metal  (graveur  de  Monsieur  le  comte  d'Artois  was 
his  official  title),  an  artist,  as  he  was  called  in  an  age 
that  defined  the  word,  "I'ouvrier  qui  travaille  avec 
grand  art  et  avec  facilite."  There  was  no  chasm  then 
between  the  industrial  and  the  fine  arts.  The  engraver 
who  decorated  snuff-boxes  and  watch-cases  was  pre- 
pared for  his  task  by  an  apprenticeship  in  drawing 
from  the   antique   and   in  study  of  the  best  models. 


THE  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  MEMOIRS      15 

Pretty  things  were  not  made  by  the  gross  then,  and 
each  one,  if  not  a  separate  invention  of  the  maker, 
was  the  product  of  patient,  often  of  enthusiastic,  ef- 
fort, and  sometimes  was  a  masterpiece  executed  under 
high  pressure  of  fervor  and  dehght.  With  less  knowl- 
edge, perhaps  there  was  more  feeling  than  we  possess, 
— "  Louvrier  nait  au  XVI IF  siecle  et  la  machine  au 

xix'r 

In  her  father's  atelier  the  small  Manon  Phlipon 
drew  from  the  antique  and  learned  to  handle  the  burin. 
She  had  half  a  dozen  masters  for  dancing,  singing, 
the  guitar,  the  clavecin^  the  violin.  She  did  pass  her 
youth  in  study,  reading  voraciously  and  indiscrimi- 
nately, but  usually  taking  notes  and  analyzing  her 
reading.  If  she  devoured  Candide  to-day,  to-morrow 
found  her  working  out  algebraic  formulae,  or  filling  a 
letter  to  Sophie  with  an  abstract  of  Leibnitz's  theory 
of  sensations. 

If  her  girlhood  was  saddened  by  a  knowledge  of 
her  father's  dissipation  and  her  mother's  anxieties, 
if  in  her  own  home  she  saw  how  helpless  is  goodness 
to  command  happiness,  such  experience  does  not  dis- 
prove her  words — indeed,  the  assertion  that  she  was 
"ignorant  of  all  superiority  but  that  of  merit"  is  a 
frank  admission  of  the  humbleness  of  her  position. 
Even  the  least  and  poorest  of  nobles  was  hampered 
by  a  thousand  different  superiorities  and  greatnesses 
in  the  social  hierarchy  from  which  the  petite  bourgeoisie 
was  happily  free. 


CHAPTER  II 
PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD 

One  curious  characteristic  of  these  Memoirs,  written 
literally  in  a  race  with  death,  is  their  air  of  leisure. 
The  writer  begins  her  story  with  her  own  birth  and 
with  the  portraits  of  her  parents.  M.  and  Mme. 
Phlipon  were  painted  also  by  La  Tour,  and  it  is 
interesting  to  note  how  these  pastels,  now  in  the 
museum  at  Lyons,  illustrate  the  pen  sketches  by  their 
daughter.  Gatien  Phlipon,  in  his  best  coat  and  lace 
cravat,  in  spite  of  his  fine  eyes  and  artist's  mouth,  is 
a  little  vulgar-looking — less  so,  however,  than  the  por- 
traits of  the  dukes  of  Choiseul  and  Lauzun. 

M.  Phlipon  was  ** strong  and  healthy,  active  and 
vain."  **  Without  learning  he  had  that  degree  of  taste 
and  knowledge,  which  the  fine  arts  give  superficially, 
in  whatever  branch  they  are  practised."  "He  could 
not  be  said  to  be  a  virtuous  man,  but  he  had  a  great 
deal  of  what  is  called  honor.  He  would  have  no  ob- 
jection to  receiving  more  than  it  was  worth  for  a  thing, 
but  he  would  have  killed  himself  rather  than  not  pay 
the  price  of  what  he  had  purchased."  Thus  Madame 
Roland  with  much  detachment,  and  La  Tour  seems 
to  confirm  her  judgment. 

M.  Phlipon's  position  was  financially  and  socially 
an  agreeable  one.  Though  he  kept  a  shop  where  he 
sold  his  own  and  his  pupils'  work,  and  occasionally 
dealt  in  jewels  on  commission,  he  was  enough  of  an 

i6 


PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD  17 

artist  in  sentiment  and  knowledge  to  consort  with 
more  gifted  confreres.  His  family  and  that  of  his 
wife,  though  plebeian,  were  in  no  sense  peuple.  His 
forebears  had  always  owned  their  own  shops  and  been 
their  own  masters.  His  father,  Gatien  Phlipon,  was 
a  wine-merchant.  His  mother,  Marie  Genevieve  Ro- 
tisset,  who  had  relations  among  la  grande  bourgeoisie^ 
opposed  her  sister's  marriage  to  the  well-to-do  intendant 
of  a  fermier  general  as  a  derogation  from  the  family 
dignity.  M.  Phlipon  himself  married  a  dowerless  girl, 
Marie  Marguerite  Bimont,  the  daughter  of  a  mercer, 
who  became  the  mother  of  Madame  Roland  on  March 
18,  1754. 

Madame  Roland's  ancestry  was  made  the  subject 
of  a  careful  study  based  on  public  documents,  by  M. 
Jal  in  the  Dictionnaire  critique  de  biographic  et  d'his- 
toire,  article  "Roland."  It  is  therefore  surprising  that 
M.  Lenotre  in  his  Salon  de  Madame  Roland  (Paris 
Revolutionnaire,  p.  172,  ed.  1906)  should  have  com- 
menced his  sketch  by  the  utterly  unfounded  state- 
ments that  Madame  Roland's  grandfather  Rotisset  was 
the  head  cook  of  the  Marquis  de  Crequy,  that  he  mar- 
ried the  chambermaid  of  the  marquise,  and  that  their 
daughter,  Fanchon  Rotisset,  became  the  wife  of  Gatien 
Phlipon  and  the  mother  of  his  illustrious  daughter. 

M.  Lenotre  does  not  give  his  authority  for  these 
misstatements.  It  is  not  far  to  seek,  however.  The 
Crequys'  apocryphal  cook  and  chambermaid  are  only 
two  of  the  fictitious  characters  invented  by  the  pam- 
phleteer Causen  de  Courchamps  in  his  spurious  Sou- 
venirs de  la  Marquise  de  Crequy  (VII,  p.  192,  ed.  of 
1840).     It  was  Causen's  fabrications  of  this  kind  that 


i8  MANON   PHLIPON   ROLAND 

betrayed  the  counterfeit  character  of  these  cleverly 
forged  memoirs.  Though  they  have  recently  been 
abbreviated,  translated  into  English,  and  presented 
to  the  American  public  as  a  genuine  eighteenth-cen- 
tury production,  they  were  discredited  shortly  after 
their  appearance  in  1840, 

M.  Lenotre's  repetition  of  Causen's  fiction  is  the 
more  incomprehensible  because  M.  Lenotre  acknowl- 
edges his  indebtedness  to  M.  Perroud  for  all  the  ma- 
terial of  his  Mort  de  Roland.  Now  M.  Perroud  pub- 
lished (in  his  Lettres  de  Madame  Roland,  1902)  an 
abstract  of  M.  Jal's  genealogical  study  of  the  Rolands, 
and  a  correction  of  M.  Lenotre's  careless  repetition 
of  Causen's  invention.  A  mere  glance  at  these  notes 
would  have  prevented  M.  Lenotre  from  prematurely 
despising  Madame  Roland  as  the  upstart  offspring 
of  a  couple  of  servants,  and  viewing  her  career  with 
consequent  severity.  A  sufficient  acquaintance  with 
the  documents  in  the  case  to  prove  that  Manon's  grand- 
parents were  well-to-do  bourgeois  connected  with  la 
haute  finance  would  not  only  have  mitigated  the  as- 
perity of  M.  Lenotre's  judgment,  but  would  have  im- 
posed fewer  reserves  on  our  future  enjoyment  of  his 
entertaining  glimpses  of  history. 

Madame  Phlipon's  portrait  forms  a  sharp  contrast 
to  that  of  her  rather  positive,  blunt-featured  husband; 
in  her  face  there  is  no  lack  of  delicate  edge,  of  a  certain 
pensiveness  refining  its  evident  amiability;  she  also 
is  in  gala  dress,  and  wears  her  furs  and  laces  with  fine 
unconsciousness.  She  is  a  thoughtful  and  dignified 
person  quite  worthy  of  a  place  among  La  Tour's  fine 
ladies.    Of  the  deep  love  and  veneration  she  inspired 


GATIEN  PHLIPON-IATHRR  OF  MADAME  ROLAND 
Pastel  by  Latour  in  the  Museum  of  Lyons 


PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD    19 

in  her  discriminating  daughter  the  Memoirs  bear  con- 
stant witness.  It  was  to  this  mother  of  **the  heavenly 
mind  and  the  charming  face"  that  Madame  Roland 
not  only  owed  the  sense  of  duty  which  proved  a  sanc- 
tuary to  her  ardent  temperament,  but  a  youth  exempt 
from  those  household  cares  that  devour  time  and 
strength.  A  large  leisure  for  study,  a  serene  and  cheer- 
ful home  life,  which  soothed  the  nerves  and  modified 
an  excess  of  sensibility,  were  the  gifts  of  this  wise  parent 
to  a  highly  strung,  precocious  child.  And  the  child 
of  the  hourgeoise  was  fortunate  when  her  mother  was 
judicious  as  well  as  tender,  for  mother  and  daughter 
were  literally  inseparable  in  the  families  of  the  Third 
Estate,  and  though  the  little  Manon  Phlipon,  born 
before  Rousseau's  gospel  had  literally  laid  the  baby 
on  its  mother's  breast,  was  put  out  to  nurse  in  the 
country,  she  passed  her  girlhood,  with  the  exception 
of  a  year  in  a  convent,  under  the  maternal  wing.  The 
care  of  her  daughter  was  the  occupation  and  the  diver- 
sion of  the  austerely  bred  hourgeoise;  to  this  one  little 
subject  of  her  kingdom  Madame  Phlipon  relaxed  the 
discipline  that  often  narrowed  and  alienated  filial  ten- 
derness by  imposing  on  it  a  specific  character  that 
distinguished  it  from  the  other  free  and  natural  affec- 
tions, but  this  amiable  mamma's  frown  or  the  sub- 
stitution of  "Mademoiselle"  for  *' ma  fille,"  wa.s  more 
effective  than  M.  Phlipon's  birch  rod.  Discipline  of 
a  more  spiritual  sort  Maman  Phlipon  was  not  chary 
of,  and  her  daughter's  education  was  a  practical 
preparation  for  the  duties  of  life  as  well  as  its  op- 
portunities. The  training  of  heart  and  mind  began 
when  the  little  Manon  was  sent  home  to  Paris  (1756) 


20  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

from  her  nurse's  farm  near  Arpajon,  where  she  had 
spent  the  first  two  years  of  her  life.  She  was  a  rosy 
peasant  baby,  with  the  manners  of  a  rustic  but  docile 
and  affectionate;  extremely  obstinate  when  neither 
her  reason  nor  her  feelings  were  appealed  to,  and  al- 
ready inclined  to  resist  what  appeared  to  her  the  dic- 
tates of  caprice  or  the  arbitrary  exercise  of  authority. 
The  child's  education  was  a  compromise  between  that 
of  a  grande  bourgeoisey  like  Madame  de  Pompadour, 
and  that  of  a  housewife  of  the  Third  Estate,  for  the 
petite  bourgeoise  was  a  kind  of  social  mermaid;  of  the 
people  through  her  position,  of  the  aristocracy  through 
her  accomplishments.  Household  tasks  were  familiar 
to  her,  she  was  expert  in  needlework,  she  went  to  market 
and  learned  to  cook  daintily  and  economically,  as  only 
the  French  middle  class  practise  this  most  subtle  of 
the  domestic  arts.  She  combined  the  practical  train- 
ing of  Moliere's  charming  Henriette  of  the  Femmes 
Savantes  with  the  studies  of  her  learned  sister  Ar- 
mande. 

The  artistic  tastes  and  acquirements  of  Monsieur 
Phlipon  influenced  his  daughter's  studies  also,  and 
the  teaching  of  Grandmamma  Phlipon,  a  poor  relation 
of  great  folk,  who  had  spent  much  of  her  life  in  their 
households  and  had  acquired  the  tone  of  la  parfaite- 
ment  bonne  compagniey  were  factors  in  Manon's  breed- 
ing that  curiously  united  simplicity  of  habits  with 
complexity  of  interests.  And  these  interests  were 
complex  indeed.  Encyclopaedic  information  was  ac- 
quired by  some  ambitious  girls  and  sought  by  many, 
inspired  by  the  master  spirit  of  this  century  of  inquiry, 
Voltaire,  who  handled  all  the  things  of  the  mind  with 


PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD  21 

so  light  yet  so  sure  a  touch.  To  know  something  of 
everything  was  the  ideal  of  studious  youth,  and  several 
individuals  came  perilously  near  to  attaining  it,  nota- 
bly the  fifteen-year-old  Laurette  de  Malboissiere,  who 
mentions  casually  in  one  of  her  letters:  "To-day,  after 
reading  Locke  and  Spinoza,  and  doing  my  Spanish 
theme  and  my  Italian  exercise,  I  took  my  lessons  in 
mathematics  and  dancing.  At  five  o'clock  my  little 
drawing-master  came,  who  remained  with  me  an  hour 
and  a  quarter.  After  he  left  I  read  twelve  chapters 
of  Epictetus  in  Greek  and  the  last  part  of  Timon  of 
Athens."  The  accomplished  Laurette  died  at  nine- 
teen, probably  after  having  exhausted  the  sum  of 
human  knowledge  or  her  capacity  for  acquiring  it. 
Madame  de  Genlis,  who  was  of  tougher  fibre,  is  an- 
other typical  product  of  the  higher  culture.  She 
preached,  taught,  wrote  novels,  played  the  harp,  bled 
and  blistered,  acted,  danced,  sang,  composed,  and 
learned  half  a  dozen  trades. 

The  Phlipon  family  were  on  a  lower  social  plane 
than  the  ladies  just  quoted,  but  the  ideals  of  the  petite 
bourgeoisie  fluctuated  between  those  of  the  people 
and  the  nobility,  and  the  education  of  its  daughters 
was  a  compromise  that  included  many  sage  incon- 
gruities. "This  Httle  girl,"  Madame  Roland  writes 
of  herself,  "who  read  serious  books,  could  explain 
the  courses  of  the  celestial  spheres,  handle  the  crayon 
and  the  graver,  and  at  the  age  of  eight  was  the  best 
dancer  of  a  number  of  young  people  older  than  her- 
self assembled  at  a  family  merrymaking,  was  often 
called  to  the  kitchen  to  make  an  omelet,  pick  vege- 
tables, or  skim  the  pot.    In  no  occupation  am  I  at  a 


22  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

loss.  I  can  prepare  my  own  dinner  as  handily  as  Phi- 
lopoemen  cut  his  wood." 

The  studies  of  the  little  Phlipon  began  at  what  we 
should  now  consider  a  very  early  age;  at  four  she  knew 
how  to  read,  and,  as  she  was  naturally  studious,  all 
that  was  necessary  to  continue  her  education  was  to 
provide  her  with  books;  they  were  her  toys,  and  noth- 
ing but  the  sight  of  a  flower  could  divert  her  attention 
from  them.  *' Under  the  tranquil  shelter  of  the  pater- 
nal roof,  I  was  happy  from  my  infancy  with  books 
and  flowers;  in  the  narrow  confines  of  a  prison,  in  the 
bonds  imposed  by  a  most  revolting  tyranny,  I  have  the 
same  feeling,  and  I  forget  the  injustice  of  men,  their 
follies,  and  my  misfortunes,  with  flowers  and  books." 

It  was  not  to  books  alone  that  Manon's  time  was 
given;  besides,  lessons  in  writing,  geography,  and  his- 
tory, dancing  and  music,  formed  an  important  part 
of  her  curriculum;  she  had  masters  for  the  guitar, 
the  violin,  and  for  singing;  she  drew  from  her  father's 
collection  of  casts  and  began  to  engrave  under  his 
supervision.  Miscellaneous  reading  ran  an  even  course 
with  study.  The  small  house  library  was  soon  ex- 
hausted, a  folio  Bible,  the  Lives  of  the  Saints,  the 
Civil  Wars  of  Appian,  The  Comic  Romance  of  Scar- 
ron,  and  a  couple  of  volumes  of  memoirs,  those  of  the 
romantic  De  Pontis  and  of  the  gallant  frondeuse 
Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier,  were  read  and  reread 
again  and  again.  So  insatiable  was  Manon's  intel- 
lectual curiosity  that,  having  unearthed  an  old  tome 
on  the  art  of  heraldry,  she  studied  it  to  such  purpose 
that  she  surprised  her  father  by  a  criticism  on  a  seal 
composed  against  the  rules  of  that  art,  and  soon  be- 


PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD  23 

came  his  oracle  in  such  matters — a  responsible  posi- 
tion when  letters  were  habitually  closed  with  the 
blazon  of  the  writer  and  such  seals  formed  part  of  an 
engraver's  work. 

A  happy  discovery  soon  furnished  Manon  with  more 
nourishing  fare  for  a  growing  intelligence.  In  rum- 
maging her  father's  studio  she  found  a  store  of  books 
belonging  to  one  of  his  pupils,  from  which  she  furtively 
carried  off  a  volume  now  and  then  to  devour  in  her 
own  den.  One  day  she  saw  a  work  she  had  just  finished 
in  her  mother's  hands  and,  feeling  assured  that  the 
discreet  lady  shared  her  discovery,  Manon  assumed 
the  air  of  merely  following  the  parental  example  and 
continued  to  borrow  without  scruple.  The  art  student 
possessed  sound  literary  taste — travels,  plays,  Vol- 
taire's Candide,  a  French  translation  of  Tasso,  Tele- 
maque,  and  Dacier's  Plutarch  formed  his  small  col- 
lection. Manon's  susceptible  little  heart  and  ardent 
imagination  were  touched  and  fired  by  the  heroes  of 
Fenelon  and  the  Gerusalemme.  It  seems  curious 
to-day  that  the  course  of  young  blood  should  have 
been  quickened  by  the  didactic  Telemaque,  or  the 
operatic  paladins  of  Tasso,  yet  Madame  Roland  was 
so  moved  by  them  that  she  would  have  plucked  out 
her  tongue  "rather  than  have  read  aloud  the  episodes 
of  the  island  of  Calypso  and  a  number  of  passages  in 
Tasso;  my  breath  grew  short,  a  sudden  blush  covered 
my  face,  and  my  altered  voice  would  have  betrayed 
my  agitation.  With  Telemachus  I  was  Eucharis,  and 
Herminia  with  Tancred.  ...  I  was  these  very  charac- 
ters, and  I  saw  only  the  objects  that  existed  for  them." 

The  keen-edged  mockery  and  positive  good  sense  of 


24  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

Voltaire  were  excellent  correctives  for  such  excess  of 
sensibility.  Plutarch,  however,  proved  the  true  patria 
for  a  proud  yet  impassioned  spirit;  henceforth  it  dwelt 
in  his  divine  company  of  heroes  and  sages.  The  large 
and  virile  accents  of  the  brave  and  wise  of  the  antique 
world  vibrating  across  the  ages,  made  noble  music  in 
an  ardent  young  heart.  "Plutarch  caused  the  French 
Revolution,"  Brunetiere  somewhat  arbitrarily  asserted; 
it  would  have  been  truer  perhaps  to  say  that  the  antique 
biographer  made  many  revolutionists.  Madame  Ro- 
land became  the  soul-child  of  the  sage  and  tender 
old  Greek.  ''Plutarch  seemed  to  be  exactly  the  nourish- 
ment that  suited  my  mind.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
Lent  of  1763,  at  which  time  I  was  nine  years  old,  when 
I  carried  it  to  church  instead  of  my  prayer-book.  From 
that  time  I  date  the  impressions  and  ideas  that  made 
me  a  republican,  though  then  I  did  not  dream  that  I 
should  ever  become  one."  Many  years  afterwards, 
when  she  was  first  imprisoned,  among  the  few  books 
that  she  sent  for  was  the  Lives,  "the  Bible  of  the 
strong,"  as  Michelet  called  them.  No  work  exercised 
so  deep  and  permanent  an  influence  on  Madame  Ro- 
land's conduct  and  her  mode  of  thought  as  this  heroic 
symphony  of  literature.  She  wept  that  she  was  not 
bom  in  Athens  or  Sparta,  and  long  afterwards,  in  her 
studies  of  philosophy,  though  she  became  "Jansenist, 
Cartesian,  Stoic,"  and  sceptic  in  turn,  she  ended  by 
giving  the  palm  to  the  Stoics,  whom  she  early  had 
learned  to  revere.  Even  in  yielding  to  the  enchant- 
ments of  Rousseau  she  still  preserved  the  virile  tem- 
per which  had  been  nourished  and  fortified  by  the 
love  of  Plutarch. 


PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD  25 

Among  the  authors  who  direct  us,  who  guide  us, 
who  move  us,  who  transport  us  to  the  starry  realm  of 
the  imagination,  there  are  those  who  above  all  others 
speak  to  our  souls,  who  seem  our  very  selves  made 
wise  and  strong  and  eloquent,  who  address  our  spirit 
in  a  tongue  that  sounds  strangely  familiar,  who  ex- 
press the  thoughts  that  in  some  groping,  stumbling 
way  we  ourselves  have  conceived  dimly,  who  endow 
with  form,  substance,  and  radiant  reality  ideas  that 
were  to  us  but  vague  and  amorphous  notions,  mere 
shimmers  and  gleams  of  apprehension.  There  are  in 
our  literary  pantheon  some  altars  more  richly  crowned 
than  others,  some  writers  to  whom  we  yield  a  more 
complete  inner  acquiescence,  whom  we  elect  for  lead- 
ers, masters  and  lords  of  our  spirit. 

In  spite  of  her  admiration  for  Plutarch's  heroic  pa- 
gans, however,  Manon  was  a  most  devout  Christian 
and  a  student  of  the  Word;  it  is  true  that  learning 
the  Athanasian  creed  was  rewarded  by  hearing  the 
fairy-tale  of  Tangier  of  the  Long  Nose,  a  kind  of  mythic 
Cyrano  de  Bergerac,  and  that  at  first  her  unusual  ac- 
tivity of  mind  was  applied  to  the  mysteries  of  her 
faith  in  a  somewhat  secular  spirit.  Madame  Phlipon's 
younger  brother  was  an  ecclesiastic.  This  "dear  little 
uncle,"  the  Abbe  Bimont,  "handsome,  benevolent, 
and  gay,"  of  whom  Madame  Roland  tells  us  she  "could 
never  think  without  emotion,"  took  a  personal  in- 
terest in  his  niece's  religious  education.  Her  presence 
at  the  catechism  classes  in  the  parish  church,  where 
her  remarkable  memory  easily  won  her  the  first  place, 
was  a  source  of  pride  to  the  amiable  abbe  as  well  as 
to  her  parents.     "Madame  Phlipon  was  pious  with- 


26  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

out  being  a  devotee;  she  was,  or  endeavored  to  be,  a 
believer,  and  she  conformed  to  the  rules  of  the  church 
with  the  humility  and  regularity  of  one  whose  heart, 
having  need  of  the  support  of  its  main  principles, 
troubles  itself  but  little  with  its  details."  The  rever- 
ence with  which  she  approached  religious  subjects 
deeply  impressed  a  sensitive  child. 

Madame  Phlipon's  devotion  to  duty  was  early  felt 
and  shared  by  her  daughter.  The  family  piety,  so 
characteristic  of  the  older  races,  demands  many  small 
sacrifices  of  women;  among  those  of  Manon's  mother 
was  a  weekly  visit  to  Grandmamma  Bimont,  a  palsied 
and  imbecile  old  lady.  It  was  a  severe  penance  for 
an  active  child  to  sit  quiet  for  two  hours  while  Madame 
Phlipon  listened  complaisantly  to  the  gabble  of  Marie, 
the  old  lady's  attendant.  There  were  no  books,  only 
the  Psalter,  which  palled  after  the  French  had  been 
read  and  the  Latin  chanted  some  scores  of  times.  The 
grandmamma's  dotage  was  of  a  perverse  and  painful 
character.  When  Manon  was  gay  the  old  lady  wept; 
"if  I  fell  down  or  hurt  mj^self  she  would  burst  out 
laughing.  ...  I  could  have  borne  with  her  laughing 
at  me;  but  her  tears  were  always  accompanied  by 
pitiable  and  idiotic  outbursts  that  shocked  me  inex- 
pressibly and  filled  me  with  terror."  One  day  the  child 
cried  for  vexation,  and  begged  to  go  away;  her  mamma, 
to  exercise  the  little  one's  patience,  stayed  the  whole 
evening.  "Nor  did  she  fail  at  a  more  favorable  time 
to  explain  that  these  wearisome  visits  were  a  sacred 
obligation,  which  it  was  an  honor  for  me  to  share.  I  do 
not  know  how  she  managed  it,  but  the  lesson  touched 
my  heart,"  wrote  Madame  Roland  years  afterwards. 

If  she  was  a  Puritan  in  her  respect  for  duty,  Madame 


PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD  27 

Phlipon  was  a  Parisienne  in  her  devotion  to  dress. 
She  was  a  true  descendant  of  those  mediaeval  bur- 
gesses of  Paris  whose  gorgeous  gowns  so  surprised 
Isabeau  de  Baviere.  "I  thought  I  was  the  only  queen; 
they  are  all  queens  here,"  petulantly  exclaimed  the 
royal  bride.  Madame  PhHpon's  passion  was  a  vicarious 
one.  Simple  as  one  of  Chardin's  housewives  in  her 
own  attire,  all  her  frills  and  frivolity  were  lavished 
on  her  girl,  who  was  her  doll  and  her  toy.  From  her 
infancy  Madame  Roland  was  dressed  with  a  degree 
of  elegance  and  even  richness  superior  to  her  social 
station.  **The  fashionable  gowns  for  young  girls  in 
those  days  were  cut  all  in  one  piece,  with  a  close-fitting 
bodice;  they  were  made  like  the  court  dresses,  very 
tight  in  the  waist,  which  they  showed  to  advantage, 
very  ample  below,  with  a  long  sweeping  train  trimmed 
according  to  the  taste  of  the  wearer  or  the  fashion  of 
the  season.  Mine  were  of  fine  silk  of  some  simple  pat- 
tern and  quiet  color,  but  in  price  and  quality  as  rich 
as  the  best  holiday  costumes  of  my  mother."  Truly 
an  appropriate  and  hygienic  dress  for  a  child !  Some- 
thing of  this  childish  coquetry  remained  with  Madame 
Roland  through  life.  Though  simple,  almost  Spartan 
in  her  tastes,  she  was  constantly  well  dressed,  and  her 
beautiful  and  abundant  hair  was  always  becomingly 
arranged.  Dumouriez,  who  feared  and  resisted  her 
influence,  wrote  of  her  during  the  busiest  period  of 
her  life  that  she  was  'Uoujours  mise  elegammenty 

The  position  of  puppet  for  the  display  of  fine  clothes 
was  almost  as  trying  as  that  of  visitor  to  a  weak-minded 
grandmother.  Rousseau  had  not  yet  struck  the  fetters 
from  the  poor  little  prisoner  of  the  old  regime.  Chil- 
dren were  still  in  the  bondage  of  stiff  stays  and  farthin- 


28  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

gales,  the  gyves  of  trains  and  high  heels,  the  restraints 
of  frizzed  and  powdered  coiffures.  The  tiny,  demure 
gentlemen  and  ladies  in  manner  and  dress  were  their 
elders  seen  through  a  diminishing  glass.  The  dainty 
doll  who  curtsies  so  gravely  in  Cazot's  "Dancing  Les- 
son," the  little  dunce  standing  primly  erect  in  Char- 
din's  "Bonne  Education,"  or  the  miniature  coquette, 
who  is  squired  by  an  equally  diminutive  cavalier  in 
Moreau's  "Petits  Parrains  " — all  these  exquisite,  wee 
creatures  are  Lilliputians,  not  denizens  of  Childland. 
Madame  Roland  confides  to  us  the  tortures  of  elaborate 
toilettes,  of  lacing  and  hair-dressing,  always  accom- 
panied by  gasps  and  tears,  which  preceded  a  promenade 
or  a  visit.  Fortunately  on  ordinary  days  her  finery 
was  laid  aside  and  she  went  to  early  mass  with  her 
mother,  or  alone  to  the  nearest  greengrocer's  to  buy 
the  parsley  or  salad  which  the  maid  had  forgotten, 
dressed  in  a  simple  linen  frock.  Her  dress  presented 
the  same  contrasts  as  did  her  education. 

Meanwhile,  under  this  outward  diversity  of  tastes 
and  habits,  her  inner  life  was  a  harmonious  and  con- 
sistent one.  From  her  childhood  (if  we  may  trust  her 
memory  of  it)  the  future  heroine  of  the  Republic  pos- 
sessed the  faculty,  as  invaluable  to  a  student  as  to  a 
diplomatist,  of  living  in  the  present,  of  absorption  in 
the  interest  of  the  moment.  A  fervid  imagination, 
furnished  by  good  reading  with  pure  and  noble  images, 
realized  vividly  the  motives  and  acts  of  the  knights 
and  heroes  who  formed  her  mental  society.  Cato 
or  Godfrey  was  to  her  as  real  as  and  more  compre- 
hensible than  the  haggling  herb-seller  round  the  cor- 
ner or  the  children  she  met  at  the  catechism  class. 


PARENTAGE  AND  CHILDHOOD  29 

The  lack  of  playmates  of  her  own  age  fostered  Ma- 
rion's introspective  life.  From  the  time  she  learned  to 
read,  her  highest  delights  and  tenderest  sorrows  had 
been  found  between  the  covers  of  her  books.  In 
them  she  had  early  discovered  the  open  sesame  to  a 
wonder  world  of  unfading  joys,  a  region  of  marvels 
wherein  a  poor  little  girl  in  her  coarse-stuff  gown, 
shivering  beside  a  drafty  window,  was  transformed 
into  a  princess,  a  paladin,  a  patriot,  or  a  martyr. 
Manon,  it  will  be  observed,  always  appropriated  the 
leading  roles — nothing  short  of  the  part  of  the  grande 
amoureuse  or  that  of  the  hero  himself  satisfied  her  as- 
pirations. 

Nor  was  she  content  to  shut  away  all  her  state  and 
splendor  in  some  dingy  volume  when  the  magic  hour 
was  over  and  she  was  called  to  her  needle  or  her  lessons. 
Manon  was  the  very  reverse  of  antinomian;  her  pre- 
occupation, as  soon  as  she  began  to  reflect,  was  to  live 
her  thoughts,  to  translate  into  action  her  loved  hero's 
deeds  and  high  emprises.  Was  there  no  place  left  for 
Brutus's  virtue  and  Tancred's  courage  in  her  daily 
existence  ^.  Were  noble  lives  and  great  examples  to 
be  admired  coldly,  disinterestedly,  merely  as  one  did 
the  antique  busts  and  statues  in  her  father's  studio  ? 
Even  those  material  images  she  copied;  why  not  the 
grander  human  examples  of  a  glorious  past  ?  She  felt 
within  herself  the  flutter  of  newly  fledged  pinions,  a 
potentiality  for  sacrifice,  a  goading  desire  to  do  as  well 
as  to  dream — to  be  an  actor,  not  a  spectator  only,  in 
the  mystery  of  life. 


CHAPTER    III 

AUSTERITY   AND    FRIVOLITY 

Confirmation,  a  solemn  ceremony  to  the  impres- 
sionable child  of  a  pious  mother,  precipitated  these 
vague  outreachings  into  a  definite  aspiration.  The 
thought  of  her  first  communion  penetrated  Manon 
with  religious  awe.  Even  her  simple,  quiet  existence 
appeared  to  her  far  too  worldly  to  admit  of  proper 
preparation  for  it.  The  Philothee  of  Saint  Francis 
de  Sales,  most  amiable  of  saints,  became  the  livre  de 
chevet  of  the  little  pagan  who  three  years  before  had 
carried  her  Plutarch  to  mass,  and  who  now  laid  aside 
her  poets  and  historians  to  study  the  dogmas  of  her 
faith.  The  words  she  had  formerly  learned  so  lightly 
grew  weighty  with  spiritual  meaning.  She  followed 
with  increasing  love  and  reverence  the  holy  offices  of 
her  church,  deeply  moved  by  her  new  comprehension 
of  the  divine  mysteries  embodied  in  their  gorgeous 
ceremonial.  All  the  time  she  could  save  from  her  daily 
tasks  was  given  to  prayer,  meditation,  and  books  of 
devotion.  Bible-reading  as  usual  suggested  doubts 
of  the  divine  goodness.  The  transformation  of  the 
devil  into  a  serpent  and  the  apparent  cruelty  of  the 
Supreme  Being  in  permitting  this  metamorphosis 
caused  her  first  stumble  in  the  path  of  belief,  but  grad- 
ually the  constant  contemplation  of  the  grand  central 
motive  of  her  religion  effaced  all  the  neophyte's  doubts 

30 


AUSTERITY  AND   FRIVOLITY  31 

and  "the  reign  of  sentiment  in  her  heart  began  with 
the  love  of  God." 

To  love,  with  this  intense  child,  was  to  give  herself 
unreservedly  to  the  loved.  How  could  she  serve  her 
Lord  ? — for  in  service  only  is  love  made  visible. 
She  practised  secret  austerities;  fasted,  surreptitiously 
sprinkled  her  beefsteak  with  ashes,  and  said  long  prayers 
kneeling  on  the  bare  floor  on  bitter  winter  nights.  She 
again  sighed  for  the  vanished  days  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
but  for  the  sake  of  the  tortures  and  persecutions  that 
would  have  won  her  a  martyr's  crown.  The  lives 
of  the  saints,  the  heroic  who  were  also  the  holy, 
thrilled  her  with  admiration.  Alas,  pincers  and  racks, 
tigers  and  arenas  were  hopelessly  out  of  reach ! 
Martyrdom  in  France  (except  for  a  Protestant  or  a 
sceptic  like  the  Chevalier  de  la  Barre)  was  obsolete, 
but  self-immolation  in  another  form  was  to  be  had 
for  the  asking.  In  the  solitude  of  the  cloister  sanctity 
could  be  sought;  there  one  could  die  to  the  world 
more  slowly  but  not  less  truly  than  under  the  axe  or 
among  the  beasts  at  Ephesus. 

For  some  time  the  thought  of  leaving  her  mother 
sent  Manon's  thoughts  shuddering  away  from  the 
idea  of  a  convent.  But  what  costlier  sacrifice  could 
she  offer  the  Lord  than  this  unique  love  of  her  heart  ? 
Practical  always  in  the  application  of  the  ideal  to  daily 
life,  her  resolution  swiftly  grew  into  action,  and  one 
evening,  after  supper,  the  Phlipons  were  startled  by 
seeing  their  daughter  fall  at  their  feet  and  with  floods 
of  tears  implore  their  consent  to  enter  a  convent. 

The  convent,  not  the  veil,  Manon  pleaded  for,  as 
the  first  station  in  the  thorny  path  of  renunciation. 


32  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

She  besought  a  pious  retreat  in  which  fittingly  to  pre- 
pare herself  to  receive  the  greatest  of  Christian  privi- 
leges. Madame  Phlipon,  touched  by  her  daughter's 
desire  and  the  suffering  it  had  evidently  cost  the  child, 
yielded  a  reluctant,  her  father  a  more  cordial,  consent. 
Manon's  music-master  recommended  a  religious  house 
where  he  visited  some  titled  pupils,  and  after  the  pre- 
liminary inquiries  a  convent  of  the  Sisterhood  of  the 
Congregation  was  chosen  (May  7,  1765).  This  build- 
ing, once  in  the  rue  Saint  Etienne,  Faubourg  Saint 
Marcel,  has  been  long  since  swept  away  by  the  rising 
tide  of  business  needs.  A  few  such  houses  still  remain 
like  tranquil  islands  of  gray  rock  and  green  grass  and 
venerable  trees,  midstream  of  the  rush  and  whirl  of 
modern  Paris.  The  dusky,  fragrant  chapel,  the  long, 
bare  corridors,  the  beamed  refectory  with  its  sculp- 
tured wall-fountain  and  lofty  reading-desk,  the  deep 
garden,  bird-haunted,  with  its  mossy  statues  of  virgin 
saints  and  its  lichen-covered  benches,  formed  a  back- 
ground as  harmonious  for  a  young  devotee  as  that 
which  glows  dimly  behind  the  glimmering  halo  of  a 
holy  maiden  in  some  warm-hued,  mediaeval  panel. 
Could  piety,  at  once  fervent  and  romantic,  discover  a 
more  congenial  retreat .?  The  peace  of  the  cloister  and 
the  industry  of  the  world  were  united  within  these 
walls.  The  nuns  of  the  Congregation  taught  poor 
children  in  a  free  day-school,  and  received  a  certain 
number  of  young  girls  of  the  petite  noblesse  and  the 
bourgeoisie  as  boarding-scholars,  for  girls,  when  not  en- 
tirely cloister-bred,  generally  passed  a  few  years  at 
least  in  a  convent. 

The  discipline  and   comparative  isolation  of  these 


AUSTERITY  AND  FRIVOLITY  33 

modest  religious  houses  were  more  salutary  than  severe. 
They  were  far  removed  from  the  magnificent  world- 
liness  of  the  abbey  of  Fontevrault,  where  royal  prin- 
cesses were  sent  to  hold  miniature  courts  and  to  give 
laws  to  their  instructors.  They  bore  not  the  faintest 
resemblance  to  the  aristocratic  chapter  of  Chelles, 
where  baby  patricians  were  drilled  in  social  obser- 
vances, and  etiquette  and  genealogy  were  first  in  the 
short  list  of  studies.  The  more  humble  convent  of  the 
rue  Saint  Etienne  was  to  the  religious  world  what  the 
bourgeois  household  represented  in  the  social  hier- 
archy. 

Few  girls  are  not  the  better  for  the  mild  rigors  of  a 
conventual  rule.  Especially  is  it  valuable  for  intensely 
individual  natures,  impatient  of  restraint  and  recal- 
citrant to  command.  The  pervasive  discipline  that 
seems  less  the  exercise  of  individual  authority  than 
the  impersonal  sway  of  law,  the  universal  subjection 
to  duty,  the  prompt,  silent,  military  obedience  im- 
partially exacted  from  all,  impress  and  subdue  the 
most  insubordinate,  while  the  low  voices  and  gentle 
manners  of  the  nuns  soften  the  austerity  of  their  rule. 
It  makes  for  more  disinterested  aims  in  after  life  when 
for  a  time  the  young  are  brought  into  contact  with 
those  who  have  elected  self-abnegation  as  an  ideal,  in 
theory  at  least.  The  monastic  cultus  of  purity  and 
sacrifice  remains  in  certain  natures  long  after  the  piety 
that  first  inspired  them  has  faded  away,  to  chasten 
the  imagination  and  strengthen  the  will.  Madame 
Roland  is  herself  an  example  of  the  persistence  of  these 
benign  influences.  There  is  no  sweeter  picture  of  con- 
vent life  than  that  of  this  child  of  Plutarch,  and  if 


34  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

the  nunneries  of  the  eighteenth  century  were  often 
centres  of  vanity  and  frivolity,  where  all  the  artificial 
distinctions  of  social  life  were  observed  as  strictly  be- 
fore the  altar  as  before  the  throne,  if  they  were  some- 
times dark  places  of  cruelty  and  crime,  they  were  often 
nurseries  of  the  amiable  virtues.  The  obscure  con- 
vent of  Madame  Roland's  Memoirs  is  as  typical  as 
that  of  Diderot's  Religieuse,  or  the  lax  retreat  at 
Montfleury  where  Madame  de  Tencin  began  her  tem- 
pestuous career. 

Manon  found  in  the  ladies  of  the  Congregation  kind 
and  well-bred  if  not  very  learned  teachers.  The  pre- 
cocious child  was  already  familiar  with  most  of  their 
subjects  of  study,  and  her  quickness,  diligence,  and 
pretty,  sedate  manners  soon  endeared  her  to  the  sisters. 
Two  of  them,  of  widely  differing  types,  she  sketched 
in  her  Memoirs.  Mother  Sainte  Sophie  had  become  a 
nun  at  fifty  and  brought  with  her  to  the  cloister  the 
high  breeding  and  varied  accomplishments  of  a  woman 
of  the  world.  Would  you  know  what  they  were,  these 
accomplishments  that  made  their  possessor  the  envy 
of  the  less  gifted  ?  "She  wrote  a  fine  hand,  embroi- 
dered with  elegance,  was  versed  in  orthography  and 
not  unacquainted  with  history."  ''Knowledge  puffeth 
up  " — no  wonder  the  Mother  Sainte  Sophie  was  slightly 
pedantic  and  that  the  other  sisters  looked  with  green 
eyes  upon  her  superiority.  This  erudite  person  soon 
became  attached  to  the  studious  and  demure  little 
Phlipon,  gave  her  private  instruction  and  lessons  in 
reading  aloud,  an  acquirement  much  valued  when, 
modern  conditions  being  reversed,  readers  were  many 
and  books  were  few.     Mother  Sainte  Sophie  was  too 


^■^^^■,.,.,.,u-^/-'^"^r 


//<-v  a  I /<!/•/ J    t'/i  /yJO'. 


THE  BONNKVILLE  EXGRAMNc;  Ol'  MXDWll    Rol.WI) 


AUSTERITY  AND  FRIVOLITY  35 

imposing,  too  superior,  to  be  loved  by  her  disciple; 
it  was  another,  humbler  sister  who  won  Manon's  heart 
and  kept  it  all  her  life.  This  was  Angelique  Boufflers, 
a  dowerless  girl,  who  had  renounced  the  world  that 
had  abandoned  her  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  "Nature 
had  formed  her  of  sulphur  and  saltpetre;  her  repressed 
energy  exalted  to  the  highest  degree  the  tenderness  of 
her  heart  and  the  vivacity  of  her  mind.  Her  lack  of 
fortune  had  caused  her  to  be  placed  among  the  lay 
sisters  with  whom  she  had  nothing  in  common  except 
their  rude  tasks.  There  are  minds  that  have  no  need 
of  cultivation.  Sainte  Agathe  [the  religious  name  of 
this  nun],  without  the  help  of  education,  was  superior 
not  only  to  her  companions  but  to  most  of  the  Sisters 
of  the  Choir."  This  young  woman  was  the  convent 
drudge;  her  duty  was  to  wait  on  the  boarders,  and,  as 
she  was  amiable  and  willing,  she  was  always  overloaded 
with  work.  Nevertheless,  she  made  time  to  serve 
Manon  with  special  care,  petted  her,  gave  her  the 
key  to  her  own  cell  where  the  little  girl  found  a  small 
library  of  mystical  works,  and  "a  charming  canary 
tame  and  caressing,  which  she  [Angelique]  had  taught 
to  speak."  This  seems  surprising,  but  the  eighteenth 
was  a  century  of  talkers,  and  the  known  loquacity  of 
nuns  may  have  proved  contagious.  "  Cette  colomhe 
gemissante,^'  as  Agathe  is  often  called  in  the  Memoirs, 
was  swept  out  of  her  dove-cote  by  the  whirlwind  of 
the  Revolution  (October,  1792).  Vegetating  on  a 
scanty  pension,  she  was  living  near  Sainte  Pelagic 
when  Madame  Roland  was  confined  there,  and  sweet- 
ened by  her  visits  and  her  sympathy  her  old  pupil's 
captivity. 


36  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

Manon's  dutiful  affection  for  the  nuns  was  soon 
succeeded  by  a  first  passion  for  a  girl  of  fourteen — I 
write  passion  advisedly,  for  no  milder  word  could  ex- 
press the  emotion  that  for  many  years  tinged  the  whole 
texture  of  Manon's  inner  life.  A  clearer,  purer  flame 
was  never  kindled  on  the  altar  of  friendship — a  flame 
that  consumed  the  thought  of  self  in  its  votary,  that 
was  guarded  with  jealous  care,  and  nurtured  with 
daily  oflPerings. 

Sophie  Cannet,  the  lady  paramount  of  Manon's 
aff"ections,  was  a  native  of  Amiens  where  her  parents 
belonged  to  the  rich  bourgeoisie.  She  was  her  mother's 
favorite,  and,  to  soften  her  exile  from  home,  her  elder 
sister  Henriette,  who  had  already  made  her  social 
debut,  was  bundled  off  to  school  with  her.  Henriette 
considered,  not  unreasonably,  that  she  had  been  sacri- 
ficed to  her  sister,  but  her  mother  had  another  motive 
in  cloistering  her.  This  brilliant,  handsome  girl  was 
in  much  need  of  a  wholesome  restraint  that  neither 
Madame  Cannet  nor  the  gay,  frivolous  little  world 
of  Amiens  could  furnish — hence  Henriette's  return 
to  a  convent  for  a  brief  season.  These  sisters  possessed 
no  trait  in  common  but  their  attachment  to  Manon. 
"Henriette  was  frank,  even  brusque,  impatient  to 
irascibility,  gay,  often  a  madcap;  she  was  subject  to 
outbreaks  of  temper  which  were  always  followed  by 
most  afi^ectionate  atonements.  You  could  not  help 
loving  even  while  you  scolded  her,  yet  it  was  difficult 
to  live  with  her  on  pleasant  and  impossible  on  reason- 
able terms,  for  she  was  as  volatile  and  flighty  as  she 
was  witty  and  vivacious." 

Sophie   was   the   Penserosa  of  this   Allegra.     "The 


AUSTERITY  AND   FRIVOLITY  37 

sobriety  of  premature  reason  characterized  her;  she 
did  not  feel  deeply  because  her  head  was  cool.  She 
loved  to  reflect  and  to  argue.  She  was  a  pitiless 
reasoner;  she  wished  to  analyze,  to  know,  and  to  dis- 
cuss everything.  I  talked  much  less  than  she  did,  and 
did  not  lay  stress  on  anything  but  results.  She  en- 
joyed conversing  with  me,  for  I  was  a  good  listener, 
and  when  I  did  not  think  as  she  did  my  opposition 
was  so  gentle  for  fear  of  offending  her  that  in  spite  of 
all  our  differences  of  opinion  we  have  never  quarrelled. 
Three  years  older  than  I,  and  a  little  less  humble,  Sophie 
possessed  an  external  advantage  which  I  did  not  envy 
her;  she  talked  prettily  whereas  I  could  only  answer." 
Sophie,  as  one  sees  her  in  Madame  Roland's  letters 
as  well  as  in  the  calmer,  more  detached  estimate  of 
the  Memoirs,  was  a  somewhat  cold,  quiet  girl,  an  in- 
dustrious student,  fond  of  reading,  rather  self-centred, 
and  lacking  interest  in  others.  But  she  possessed  a 
good  mind,  and  if  she  never  offered  help  or  sympathy 
she  never  refused  it.  A  more  vivid  contrast  to  her 
expansive,  imaginative  admirer  cannot  be  imagined. 

It  was  love  at  first  sight  with  Manon,  a  real  coup  de 
foudre.  Sophie  appeared  in  the  convent  garden,  deeply 
affected  by  parting  from  her  mother.  Her  white  gauze 
veil  could  not  hide  the  tears  that  bathed  her  sweet 
face,  and  Manon  was  very  naturally  impressed,  in- 
terested, and  touched.  At  supper  the  Cannet  sisters 
were  placed  at  her  table,  and  Sophie's  lack  of  appetite 
and  silent  grief  was  a  mute  but  potent  appeal  to  an 
affectionate  and  imaginative  child.  *'Her  sorrow  had 
moved  me,  her  manner  pleased  me,  I  felt  that  in  her 
I  had  found  a  friend,  and  we  became  inseparable.     I 


38  MANON   PHLIPON   ROLAND 

grew  fond  of  her  with  the  self-abandonment  which 
flows  from  the  need  of  loving  at  the  sight  of  an  object 
made  to  satisfy  that  need.  Her  company  was  infinitely 
dear  to  me  because  I  needed  to  confide  to  some  one 
who  understood  the  sentiments  I  felt,  and  which  seemed 
to  increase  by  being  shared.'*  Here  speaks  the  oflf"spring 
of  a  Latin  race,  and  a  social  people.  To  us  it  seems 
that  an  emotion  shut  deep  down  in  the  heart  gains 
in  intensity  like  the  close-stopped  vial  of  precious 
perfume  that  when  unsealed  loses  its  rare  potency  of 
fragrance.  Henceforth  Manon's  solitude  was  a  deux. 
"Work,  reading,  and  walks  were  all  shared  with 
Sophie";  and  even  in  their  prayers  they  were  not 
divided,  for  Sophie's  devotion,  though  less  tender  and 
effusive  than  that  of  her  little  friend,  was  equally  ab- 
sorbing. Together  they  sought  counsels  of  perfection. 
Untried  and  innocent  creatures,  to  them  a  life  of  re- 
nunciation seemed  as  easy  as  it  was  noble,  and  they 
both  looked  forward  to  consecrating  their  young 
maidenhood  to  the  service  of  religion. 

These  pious  aspirations  were  constantly  stimulated 
by  their  environment.  All  the  observances  of  monas- 
tic life  converge  upon  one  central  idea, — Eternity. 
Towards  a  realization  of  this  grand  abstraction  all 
daily  rites  and  pious  practices,  prayers  and  meditations, 
direct  the  mind,  while  the  significance  and  beauty 
of  imposing  ceremonies  penetrate  the  heart  and  caress 
the  eye.  "Women  understand  wonderfully  well  how 
to  set  off  these  services,  to  accompany  these  ceremonies 
with  everj^thing  that  can  lend  them  charm  or  splendor, 
and  nuns  excel  in  this  art.  A  novice  took  the  veil  soon 
after  my  arrival  at  the  convent.    The  church  and  the 


AUSTERITY  AND   FRIVOLITY  39 

altar  were  decorated  with  flowers,  with  bright  cande- 
labra, silk  curtains,  and  magnificent  hangings.  The 
large  gathering,  which  filled  the  outer  church,  was 
cheerful  as  a  family  appears  at  the  wedding  of  one  of 
its  members.  Gorgeously  dressed  and  with  a  trium- 
phant air,  the  young  victim  appeared  at  the  grating 
in  much  pomp,  which  she  presently  laid  aside  to  re- 
appear covered  with  a  white  veil  and  crowned  with 
roses.  I  still  feel  the  nervous  agitation  that  her  slightly 
tremulous  voice  gave  me  when  she  chanted  melodiously 
the  customary  verse:  Elegit^  etc. — 'In  this  place  have 
I  chosen  my  abode  and  will  establish  it  forever.'  [Here 
the  vivid  picture  fades  from  the  prisoner's  mental 
retina,  and  the  lonely  captive  cries  aloud:]  I  have 
not  forgotten  the  notes  of  this  little  anthem;  I  can 
repeat  them  as  exactly  as  if  I  had  heard  them  but  yes- 
terday. I  would  I  could  sing  them  in  America.  Great 
God  !  With  what  accents  would  I  chant  them  to-day  ! 
[Then  Memory  flashes  the  vanished  vision  back  again.] 
When  the  novice  had  pronounced  her  vows,  as  she 
lay  on  the  ground,  she  was  covered  with  a  pall,  under 
which  one  would  have  thought  she  was  to  be  buried. 
I  shuddered  with  terror.  She  was  an  image  of  the 
absolute  rupture  of  every  earthly  tie,  and  the  renun- 
ciation of  all  that  was  most  dear  to  her.  I  was  no  longer 
myself.  I  was  she.  I  thought  they  were  tearing  me 
away  from  my  mother,  and  I  shed  floods  of  tears." 

Naturally  enough,  to  a  creature  of  such  Hvely  sensi- 
bilities, her  own  first  communion  was  an  intense  emo- 
tional experience.  "Prepared  by  all  the  means  cus- 
tomary in  convents,  by  retreats,  long  prayers,  silence, 
and  meditation,  it  was  considered  by  me  as  a  solemn 


40_  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

covenant  and  the  pledge  of  immortal  happiness.  It 
fired  my  imagination  and  touched  my  heart  to  such  a 
degree  that,  bathed  in  tears  and  transported  with 
divine  love,  I  was  incapable  of  walking  to  the  altar 
without  the  aid  of  a  nun,  who,  supporting  me  under 
the  arms  helped  me  to  the  Holy  Table." 

These  crises  of  religious  feeling  left  no  fugitive  im- 
pression on  Manon's  nature.  "Philosophy  has  dissi- 
pated the  illusions  of  a  vain  behef,  but  it  has  not  anni- 
hilated the  effect  of  certain  objects  on  my  senses,  or 
their  associations  with  the  ideas  that  they  used  to 
quicken.  I  can  still  attend  divine  service  with  pleasure 
if  it  be  performed  with  solemnity.  I  forget  the  char- 
latanism of  priests,  their  ridiculous  fables,  and  absurd 
mysteries,  and  I  see  only  a  group  of  weak  men  im- 
ploring the  help  of  a  Supreme  Being.  The  wretched- 
ness of  mankind,  and  the  consoling  hope  of  an  omnip- 
otent Judge  fill  my  thoughts.  Light  fancies  fade 
away,  the  passions  are  calmed,  the  love  of  my  duties 
is  revived;  if  music  form  a  part  of  the  ceremony  I 
find  myself  transported  to  another  world,  and  I  come 
away  a  better  woman  from  a  place  where  the  fool- 
ish and  thoughtless  crowd  resort  to  bow  before  a  bit 
of  bread."  Alas !  That  so  fine  a  page  should  be 
coarsened  with  contempt.  She  continues:  "It  is  with 
religion  as  with  many  other  human  institutions:  it  does 
not  change  the  disposition  of  the  individual,  but  is  as- 
similated by  his  nature,  and  is  exalted  or  debased  with 
it.  The  mass  of  mankind  thinks  little,  believes  blindly, 
and  acts  by  instinct  so  that  there  exists  a  perpetual 
contradiction  between  the  principles  it  professes  and 
the  conduct  it  pursues.     Strong  characters  act  differ- 


AUSTERITY  AND   FRIVOLITY  41 

ently,  they  demand  consistency,  and  with  them  action 
is  a  faithful  translation  of  belief.  In  my  infancy  I 
naturally  received  the  creed  that  was  offered  to  me. 
It  was  mine  until  I  was  sufficiently  enlightened  to 
examine  it,  but  until  then  all  my  acts  conformed  to 
it.  I  was  astonished  at  the  levity  of  those  who,  pro- 
fessing a  similar  faith  acted  in  contradiction  to  it,  as 
I  now  am  indignant  at  the  cowardice  of  men  who,  de- 
sirous of  possessing  a  fatherland,  value  their  lives  when 
they  are  to  be  risked  in  its  service."  Thus  the  Spartan 
citoyenne;  little  Manon  was  still  in  the  idyllic  age  of 
faith  when  the  year  of  convent  life  which  her  parents 
had  granted  her  drew  to  its  close  (1766). 

It  was  with  a  strangely  heavy  heart  that  the  child 
bade  good-by  to  all  her  haunts:  the  long  cloisters  where 
from  the  walls  the  epitaphs  of  nuns  long  dead  pointed 
out  the  way  to  paradise;  the  chapel  where  so  many 
blissful  hours  consecrated  to  meditation  had  been 
passed;  and  kind  Sister  Agathe's  austerely  dainty  cell. 
There  were  affecting  farewells  and  promises  to  return 
soon  and  often,  and  to  write  constantly;  there  were 
keepsakes  given  and  portraits  exchanged,  all  the  poor 
little  devices  by  which  young  affection  seeks  to  render 
enduring  the  essentially  transitory.  At  last,  however, 
the  many  farewells  were  said,  and  Manon  quitted 
the  house  of  the  Lord  "regretted,  esteemed,  and  em- 
braced by  the  whole  sisterhood,  and  bedewed  by  the 
tears  of  Sophie  and  Agathe." 

To  leave  them  was  not,  however,  to  return  to  her 
mother,  for  it  had  been  decided  in  family  conclave 
that  Manon  was  to  pass  a  year  with  her  grandmamma 
Phlipon  on  the  island  of  Saint  Louis  before  returning 


42  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

home.  "Bonne-maman"  Phlipon  was  one  of  those 
captivating  old  ladies  who  seem  the  special  fruit  of 
the  ancient  regime  in  France,  mellow  fruit  delicately 
preserved,  sometimes  in  the  spice  of  wit,  sometimes 
confites  en  devotion.  "  Bonne-maman's  "  husband  had 
died  during  the  first  year  of  her  marriage,  and  Ma- 
non's  father  was  her  only  child.  Poverty  obliged  her 
to  accept  the  assistance  of  some  rich  relatives,  the 
de  Boismorel,  who  employed  her  as  governess  to  their 
two  children.  A  heritage  rendered  her  independent 
in  her  later  years,  and  she  occupied  an  apartment  on 
the  island  of  Saint  Louis  with  her  maiden  sister  Made- 
moiselle Rotisset,  appropriately  named  Angelique. 
*'This  worthy  maiden,  asthmatic  and  devout,  pure  as 
an  angel  and  simple  as  a  child,  was  the  very  humble 
servant  of  her  elder  sister."  She  became  Manon's 
gouvernantey  while  Grandmother  Phlipon  continued  the 
child's  education. 

Bonne-maman  was  an  engaging  person,  still  young 
in  heart  and  spirits.  Madame  Roland's  sketch  of  her 
evokes  from  the  silvery  dust  of  the  pastel  the  image 
of  one  of  La  Tour's  amiable  and  witty  old  ladies. 
"She  was  a  gracious  and  sweet-tempered  little  woman, 
whose  agreeable  manners,  polished  language,  winning 
smile,  and  sprightly  glances  still  hinted  at  some  pre- 
tensions to  please,  or  at  least  to  remind  us  that  she 
had  once  pleased.  She  was  sixty-five  or  -six  years  old 
[seventy  in  1766],  took  pains  with  her  dress,  which, 
however,  was  appropriate  to  her  age,  for  she  prided 
herself  above  all  things  on  the  knowledge  and  obser- 
vance of  decorum.  As  she  was  very  plump,  light  of 
foot,  extremely  erect,  with  pretty  little  hands  which 


AUSTERITY  AND   FRIVOLITY  43 

she  used  gracefully,  and  a  touch  of  sentiment  in  her 
conversation  quahfied,  however,  with  gay  but  always 
delicate  pleasantry,  the  traces  of  age  in  her  were  al- 
most imperceptible.  She  was  very  fond  of  young  people 
whose  society  pleased  her,  and  by  whom  she  was  rather 
proud  of  being  sought." 

With  this  wise  worldling  and  her  saintly  sister  Manon 
passed  her  thirteenth  year  very  pleasantly.  She  had 
secretly  resolved  to  enter  the  religious  life,  and  already 
looked  upon  the  nuns  of  the  Visitation,  the  daughters 
of  Saint  Francis  de  Sales,  as  her  future  sisters.  The 
quiet  days  with  the  two  old  ladies  began  with  early 
mass  as  the  principal  event  of  the  day,  an  occasional 
visit  to  the  convent,  a  letter  to  Sophie,  and  plenty 
of  time  for  reading  from  Saint  Augustine's  Manual, 
and  her  favorite  Philothee,  better  known  to  English 
readers  as  The  Introduction  to  a  Devout  Life.  No 
works  were  more  suited  to  foster  a  religious  temper 
and  to  create  an  atmosphere  of  celestial  illusion  in  an 
innocent  and  ardent  soul.  Bossuet's  controversial 
writings  opened  new  vistas  of  thought.  ''Favorable  as 
they  were  to  the  cause  they  defended,  they  sometimes 
stated  the  arguments  against  it,  and  thus  set  me  to 
weighing  my  belief."  This  was  Manon's  first  hesitat- 
ing step  into  the  dark  intricate  maze  of  religious 
doubt.  Meanwhile  the  letters  of  Madame  de  Sevigne 
fixed  her  taste  and  a  store  of  works  on  mythology 
awakened  her  imagination.  Occasionally  the  pleasant 
monotony  of  her  seclusion  was  broken  by  a  cere- 
monious visit,  with  its  irksome  preparations,  hair- 
dressing,  and  an  elaborate  toilette.  A  morning  call 
on    Madame    de    Boismorel,    the    rich    connection   of 


44  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

Grandmamma  Phlipon,  is  at  once  so  vivid  a  genre 
picture,  and  has  been  so  often  quoted  as  determining 
the  nature  of  Madame  Roland's  poHtical  opinions 
that  it  merits  citation. 

Madame  de  Boismorel's  singularities  had  been  some- 
times the  subject  of  "bonne-maman's"  animated  talks. 
This  lady,  whose  children  had  been  educated  by  Ma- 
dame Phlipon,  was  in  reality  only  a  rich  hourgeoise, 
but  she  possessed  the  manners  and  habits  of  the  noble 
society  in  which  she  moved.  She  received  her  con- 
fessor, and  other  less  ascetic  male  visitors  in  bed  and 
during  her  morning  toilette,  and  showed  no  more  hesi- 
tation in  changing  her  chemise  before  them  than  did 
Madame  du  Chatelet  in  bidding  a  footman  add  hot 
water  to  the  tub  in  which  she  was  bathing.  On  one 
occasion  when  grandmamma  begged  Madame  de  Bois- 
morel  to  control  her  extravagance  for  her  children's 
sake,  she  coolly  replied  that  they  were  but  "secondary 
considerations."  These  revelations  ajfforded  material 
for  reflection  to  the  admirer  of  Plutarch's  republicans, 
and  naturally  led  her  to  make  certain  comparisons. 

Documents  are  apt  to  dispel  the  theory  that  polished 
manners  and  stately  courtesies  were  essentially  at- 
tributes of  the  aristocracy,  nor  were  they  as  diffused 
as  the  artists  who  have  preserved  only  the  externals 
of  a  society  which  had  refined  the  forms  of  politeness 
into  a  delicate  art,  unwittingly  persuade  us.  An  in- 
stance of  the  insolence  with  which  even  a  noble  of 
liberal  opinions,  and  the  comrade-in-arms  and  admirer 
of  American  republicans,  addressed  a  bourgeois  minister 
of  state,  is  afforded  by  a  recently  published  letter  of 
Lafayette's.    In  it  he  apologized  ( .? )  for  the  rudeness 


AUSTERITY  AND  FRIVOLITY  45 

of  his  aide-de-camp  to  one  of  Roland's  clerks,  and  the 
original  offense  is  crushed  into  insignificance  by  the 
intolerable  haughtiness  of  the  excuse.  The  same  caste 
feeling  was  more  genially  exhibited  by  Mirabeau,  who, 
on  reaching  home  after  the  memorable  night  of  the 
4th  of  August,  when  the  nobility  renounced  titles  and 
privileges,  seized  his  sleepy  varlet  by  the  ear  and 
shouted:  **  Tu  sais,  droUy  pour  toi  je  suis  toujours  Mon- 
sieur le  Marquis^  The  wealthy  roturiers  whose  golden 
keys  unlocked  the  portals  of  the  patriciate  found  this 
tone  of  impertinent  condescension  only  too  easy  to 
acquire,  and  Madame  de  Boismorel  represents  a  type 
of  which  playwright  and  novelist  have  made  effective 
use. 

"We  arrived,"  writes  Madame  Roland,  "at  the 
Rue  Saint  Louis,  in  the  Marais,  about  noon.  As  we 
entered  the  house,  all  the  servants,  beginning  with 
the  porter,  saluted  Madame  Phlipon  with  respect 
and  affection,  and  she  answered  cordially  and  with 
dignity.  So  far  so  good.  But  then  her  little  grand- 
daughter was  noticed,  pointed  out,  and  complimented. 
I  began  to  feel  a  kind  of  uneasiness,  difficult  to  explain, 
but  I  felt  that  servants  might  look  at  me,  but  that  it 
was  not  proper  for  them  to  pay  me  compliments.  We 
go  on,  a  tall  lackey  calls  out  our  names,  and  we  enter 
a  salon  where  Madame  de  Boismorel  is  gravely  work- 
ing on  some  tapestry,  seated,  with  her  lap-dog  beside 
her,  on  what  was  called  then  not  an  ottoman  but  a 
canape.  Madame  de  Boismorel  was  about  the  age, 
height,  and  figure  of  my  grandmamma,  but  her  dress 
showed  less  good  taste  than  a  desire  to  advertise  her 
wealth  and  social  position,  and  her  face,  far  from  ex- 


46  MANON   PHLIPON   ROLAND 

pressing  a  desire  to  please,  plainly  demanded  con- 
sideration and  expressed  her  consciousness  of  deserv- 
ing it.  A  bit  of  rich  lace  puckered  into  the  shape  of 
a  small  cap  with  broad  wings,  pointed  at  the  ends  like 
a  hare's  ears,  perched  on  her  head,  showing  hair  that 
possibly  was  false,  arranged  with  the  coquettish  sever- 
ity becoming  her  sixty-odd  years;  double  layers  of 
rouge  lent  to  her  expressionless  eyes  a  boldness  that 
was  more  than  sufficient  to  make  me  lower  mine. 

"*Ah,  good  morning.  Mademoiselle  Rotisset,'  Ma- 
dame de  Boismorel  called  out  in  a  loud,  hard  voice 
as  she  rose  to  meet  us.  (Mademoiselle !  What,  my 
grandmother  is  Mademoiselle  in  this  house!)  'Really, 
I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  And  this  fine  child,  your 
grandchild,  of  course  ?  She  promises  well.  Come 
here,  sweetheart,  and  sit  down  beside  me.  She  is  timid. 
How  old  is  she,  your  grandchild.  Mademoiselle  Rotis- 
set .?  She  is  rather  dark,  but  her  skin  is  fine;  it  will 
clear  soon.  She  has  a  good  figure.  You  ought  to  have 
a  lucky  hand,  my  little  friend.  Have  you  ever  bought 
a  lottery-ticket  ?' 

"'Never,  madame;  I  do  not  like  games  of  chance.* 

"*I  believe  you — at  your  age  one  fancies  that  one 
has  a  sure  game.  What  a  voice,  sweet  and  full,  but 
how  grave  she  is !    Are  you  not  rather  pious  ?' 

"*I  know  my  duties,  and  I  try  to  perform  them.' 

"'Good,  good;  you  wish  to  become  a  nun,  do  you 
not?' 

" '  I  do  not  know  my  future,  so  I  do  not  try  to  settle 
it!' 

"'How  sententious  she  is;  your  granddaughter  is 
fond  of  reading,  Mademoiselle  Rotisset  V 


AUSTERITY  AND   FRIVOLITY  47 

"*It  is  her  greatest  pleasure.  She  spends  half  the 
day  in  reading.' 

"  'Oh,  I  can  see  that.  Take  care  she  does  not  become 
a  bluestocking,  that  would  be  a  pity!' 

"The  conversation  then  turned  upon  the  family  and 
friends  of  the  mistress  of  the  house.  My  grandmother 
asked  for  news  of  the  uncle  and  the  cousin,  the  daughter- 
in-law  and  the  friend,  for  Abbe  Langlois,  the  Marquise 
de  Levi,  Councillor  Brion,  and  Monsieur  Parent,  the 
cure.  They  talked  of  the  health  of  all  these  people, 
their  pedigrees  and  their  eccentricities — for  example, 
of  Madame  Roude,  who,  in  spite  of  her  great  age,  was 
proud  of  her  neck,  and  always  exposed  it  except  when 
she  got  in  and  out  of  her  carriage;  then  she  covered 
it  with  a  large  handkerchief  which  she  always  carried 
in  her  pocket  for  these  emergencies,  because,  as  she 
observed,  'such  things  were  not  made  to  be  shown 
to  lackeys.' 

"During  this  dialogue,  Madame  de  Boismorel  took 
a  few  stitches  in  her  work,  petted  her  little  dog,  and 
often  stared  at  me.  I  took  care  not  to  meet  her  eyes, 
because  I  disliked  them;  but  I  looked  around  at  the 
furniture  and  the  decorations  of  the  apartment,  which 
were  more  pleasing  than  the  lady.  My  blood  ran  faster, 
I  felt  my  color  rise,  my  heart  beat  quickly,  and  my 
breath  came  short.  I  did  not  ask  myself  then  why 
my  grandmamma  did  not  sit  on  the  sofa,  or  why  Ma- 
dame de  Boismorel  always  called  her  'Mademoiselle 
Rotisset,'  but  I  had  the  feeling  that  leads  to  such  ques- 
tions, and  I  looked  upon  the  end  of  the  visit  as  a  re- 
prieve from  punishment. 

"  *Ah,  by  the  way,  do  not  forget  to  buy  me  a  lotter)^- 


48  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

ticket,  and  have  your  granddaughter  choose  the  num- 
ber, do  you  hear,  "Mademoiselle  Rotisset  ?  I  want  it 
from  her  hand.  Kiss  me,  and  you,  my  little  sweet- 
heart; don't  cast  down  your  eyes  so  much.  They  are 
good  to  look  at,  those  eyes,  and  no  confessor  will  for- 
bid you  to  open  them.  Ah,  Mademoiselle  Rotisset ! 
You  will  have  many  bows,  I  promise  you,  and  that 
before  long.  Good  day,  ladies!'  And  Madame  de 
Boismorel  rang  her  bell,  ordered  Lafleur  to  call  in  two 
days'  time  at  Mademoiselle  Rotisset's  for  the  lottery- 
ticket  she  was  to  send  her,  quieted  her  barking  dog, 
and  was  already  back  on  her  sofa  before  we  had  fairly 
left  the  room." 

Madame  de  Boismorel's  compliments  were  no  more 
grateful  to  Manon  than  those  of  her  servants,  and 
the  intelligent  and  gently  bred  child  shrank  instinc- 
tively from  what  she  felt  to  be  the  coarse  flattery  and 
insolent  patronage  of  this  would-be  fine  lady,  who 
called  her  dignified  grandmamma  ''Mademoiselle,"  and 
treated  a  reserved  and  rather  priggish  person  of  twelve 
as  though  she  were  another  lap-dog.  Some  writers — 
Taine,  for  instance — have  given  great  importance  to 
this  visit,  gravely  quoting  it  as  a  proof  of  the  future 
Girondine's  envy  of  the  aristocracyy  of  its  fine  manners 
and  many  privileges,  forgetting  that  Madame  de  Bois- 
morel was  a  connection  of  her  critic's  and  a  bourgeoises 
not  a  noble. 

This  pretentious  and  vulgar  woman  had  a  delicate- 
minded  and  considerate  son,  who  soon  came  to  return 
Madame  Phlipon's  visit.  His  deferential  affection  for 
her,  the  tactful  manner  in  which  he  recalled  his  rela- 
tionship and  his  obligations  to  his  former  governess, 


AUSTERITY   AND   FRIVOLITY  49 

would  have  contented  the  most  exacting  of  grand- 
daughters, while  his  wide  reading  and  philosophical 
views,  disapproved  of  by  his  mother  and  sister,  and 
by  their  frivolous  and  bigoted  circle  of  friends  and 
parasites,  awakened  Manon's  respect  and  interest. 
In  time  he  became  as  warm  a  friend  as  a  married  man, 
moving  in  another  social  circle,  could  be  to  a  lonely 
girl  with  whom  he  had  many  intellectual  sympathies. 


CHAPTER    IV 

RELIGIOUS    DOUBTS 

Meantime  Manon's  year  of  probation  had  worn  to 
its  close  (May,  1767).  To  return  to  her  home  on  the 
busy  Quai  de  THorloge  after  the  sleepy  quiet  of  the 
He  Saint  Louis,  was  like  re-entering  the  world.  The 
Pont  Neuf  and  its  adjoining  quais  were  in  the 
eighteenth  century  one  of  the  whirling  centres  of  Pari- 
sian activity.  They  were  originally  the  goldsmith's 
quarter,  even  before  King  Henry  IV  filled  up  the  west- 
ern end  of  the  island,  which  now  cuts  sharply  into  the 
river  like  the  prow  of  a  galley,  and  built  the  fine  lines 
of  houses  of  which  only  two  remain  unspoiled  by  re- 
construction. They  recall,  in  their  peaked  roofs  and 
pleasant  autumnal  coloring  of  warm-toned  red  brick 
and  russet  stone,  their  contemporary,  the  historic 
square  of  the  Place  Roy  ale.  It  was  in  the  second  of 
these  two  houses  which  have  fortunately  remained 
almost  unaltered,  the  one  at  the  corner  of  the  Place 
Dauphine  and  the  Quai  de  I'Horloge  that  Gatien 
Phlipon  set  up  his  shop  and  his  household  gods.  His 
ambitions  had  grown  since  his  daughter's  birth  in 
the  sad  little  Rue  de  la  Lanterne.  The  returns  from 
his  own  art,  engraving,  were  too  slow  for  a  vain  man 
who  was  fond  of  fine  things ;  and  enamelling,  in  which 
he  was  an  expert,  had  slightly  injured  his  eyes.  Selling 
jewelry  on  commission  and  trading  in  diamonds  was 
an  easier  and  faster  way  to  luxurious  living,  and  no 

50 


RELIGIOUS  DOUBTS  51 

artistic  objections  to  commerce  trammelled  him.  Nat- 
urally location  on  the  Pont  Neuf  bettered  his  chances 
for  business.  There  truly  were  possible  customers  of 
all  kinds.  All  Paris  crossed  the  bridge,  lounged  on 
the  quais,  and  strolled  in  the  Place  Dauphine.  For 
two  centuries,  from  Chicot's  time  to  Beaumarchais's 
day,  the  Pont  Neuf  had  been  a  trysting-place  for  Pari- 
sians. 

Amid  the  press  of  painted  coaches  and  gilded  sednn- 
chairs  the  files  of  donkeys  laden  with  green  stuff,  the 
cavaliers  who  pushed  their  way  through  a  yielding 
but  expostulating  crowd,  the  heavy  drays  loaded  with 
wine  or  oil  or  wheat,  the  mountebanks  set  up  plat- 
forms where  they  juggled  and  danced  in  the  midst  of 
the  vortex.  Here  a  charlatan  was  selling  an  elixir; 
there  an  ambulant  dentist  was  pulling  a  tooth.  A 
powdered  fop,  seeking  a  jewelled  frame  for  a  beauty's 
miniature,  was  jostled  by  a  barefooted  friar  on  his 
way  to  Notre  Dame.  The  painted  lady  of  quality 
rubbed  elbows  with  the  high-rouged  woman  of  pleasure, 
and  the  gold-laced  lackey,  hurrying  by  with  a  billet- 
doux,  pushed  aside  the  trim  housewife  on  her  way 
to  market.  A  populous  place  indeed  was  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Pont  Neuf,  if  we  may  trust  garrulous 
Mercier  and  the  old  engravings. 

The  noise  and  bustle  must  have  reached  the  second 
story  of  the  house  on  the  Quai  de  I'Horloge  (now  No. 
41).  A  plan  of  the  Phlipons'  apartment  was  made  by 
the  architect  Duflocq  for  Dauban  after  tracing  the 
original  walls  and  partitions  under  the  changes  of  the 
last  hundred  and  fifty  years.  It  is  a  fairly  typical 
bourgeois  domicile,   consisting  of  a  kitchen,   a  large 


52  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

bedroom,  a  studio  containing  the  engraver's  Hahliy 
working-materials,  and  many  pieces  of  sculpture,  and 
a  pleasant  room,  neatly  furnished,  decorated  with 
mirrors  and  several  pictures,  which  to-day  would  be 
called  a  salouy  and  which  modest  Madame  Phlipon 
termed  a  salle.  In  one  corner  of  this  salon  a.  cabinet 
or  a  niche  had  been  made  by  partitioning  off  the  ob- 
long space  between  the  large  chimneypiece  and  the 
house  wall  that  fronted  the  Quai  de  I'Horloge.  This 
tiny  cell  was  lighted  by  a  small  window  now  walled 
up,  probably  directly  under  the  commemorative  in- 
scription which  tells  the  passer-by  that 

Madame  Roland 

Nee  a  Paris 
Le  i8  Mars  1754 

Fut  elevee  dans  cette  maison. 

The  cabinet,  or  as  an  English  contemporary  would 
have  called  it,  the  closet,  was  just  large  enough  to 
contain  a  bed,  a  chair,  a  writing-table,  and  some  book- 
shelves. Eighteenth-century  folk  cherished  these  re- 
treats, cosey  refuges  from  the  cold  and  noise  and 
publicity  of  large  and  lofty  rooms.  The  tendency 
to  build  a  snug  nest  in  the  midst  of  surrounding 
spaciousness  grew  constantly  with  the  advance  of 
comfort  from  Madame  de  Maintenon's  portable  niche 
of  crimson  brocade  wherein  she  "tented  out"  in  the 
frigid  splendor  of  Versailles  to  the  exquisite  petits 
appartements  of  Marie  Antoinette.  In  a  less  humble 
home  than  the  Phlipons'  the  closet  would  have  been 
a  boudoir  with  its  elegant  couch,  its  inlaid  embroidery- 


RELIGIOUS   DOUBTS  53 

frame,  and  writing-desk;  engravings  and  miniatures 
on  the  walls,  porcelains  and  enamels  on  the  shelves, 
a  harp  in  the  corner,  and  a  lap-dog  on  a  cushion.  But 
Manon's  closet  was  as  simple  as  a  nun's  except  for 
the  guitar  on  the  bed  and  the  flowers  that  for  three 
seasons  of  the  year  bloomed  on  the  window-ledge. 
Beyond  the  embowered  casement  lay  the  long  silvery 
lines  of  the  quays,  the  shining  reaches  of  the  river,  the 
tender,  dove-tinted  sky  of  Paris,  and  the  serene  sense 
of  space  and  air. 

Manon  was  truly  '*a  child  of  the  Seine."  She  had 
now  exchanged  the  monastic  quiet  of  Saint  Louis's 
isle,  her  walks  with  Tante  Angelique  along  its  borders, 
for  a  magnificent  spectacle  from  her  northern  window. 
At  the  close  of  a  fair  day  her  eyes  embraced  the  vast 
curve  of  the  celestial  vault  from  the  cool,  bluish  eastern 
sky  far  beyond  the  Pont  au  Change  to  the  fires  of  the 
western  heavens  flaming  behind  the  dark  trees  of  the 
Cours  la  Reine,  and  outlining  in  blackest  silhouette 
the  peaked  roofs  and  towering  chimneys  of  the  village 
of  Chaillot.  Here  often,  after  an  afternoon  of  writing 
or  study,  Manon  leaned  out  to  enjoy  the  enchanted 
hour  of  sunset;  the  noblest  passages  in  her  letters 
were  written  in  its  rosy  glamour.  Something  of  her 
sanity,  her  health  of  spirit  and  body,  her  deep  love  of 
nature,  was  owing  to  this  constant  contemplation  of 
larger  horizons  than  are  accorded  to  most  town- 
dwellers.  Her  early  writings,  long  before  she  had  read 
Rousseau,  prove  how  sensitive  were  eye  and  heart  to 
the  beauties  of  sky  and  river,  to  changing  lights  and 
delicate  gradations  of  color.  Is  it  fantastic  to  believe 
that  if,  instead  of  a  "magic  casement  opening  on  the 


54  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

foam,"  Manon's  only  window  had  admitted  the  dim 
light  of  a  courtyard  or  the  echoing  clamor  of  a  dusky, 
narrow  street,  she  would  have  lacked  something  of  her 
high  enthusiasm  and  serene  poise  ?  Her  books  would 
have  been  all  to  her,  nature  and  beauty  less  vital  and 
significant.  A  volume,  a  theory  of  life,  a  system  of 
philosophy,  a  creed  seem  small  things,  variable,  un- 
substantial, read  under  the  great  plain  of  the  sky,  or 
beside  the  perpetual  movement  of  a  mighty  stream. 
Manon  was  as  fortunate  in  the  possession  of  privacy 
as  she  was  in  the  view  from  her  window,  for  bourgeois 
life  was  generally  huddled  and  gregarious.  A  single 
living-room,  a  single  fire,  and  often  a  single  light  was 
the  rule.  The  chimney-place  was  truly  the  domestic 
altar  of  the  French  household.  President  Grosley 
recalled  how  his  father,  when  the  cold  drove  him  out 
of  his  own  cabinet,  continued  his  studies  in  jurispru- 
dence by  the  kitchen-fire,  undisturbed  by  the  yells 
of  a  pack  of  noisy  children  and  the  gabble  of  servants 
and  nurses.  Around  the  hearth  of  Marmontel's  father 
were  gathered  his  great-grandparents,  a  grandmother, 
three  grandaunts,  and  a  sister  of  the  house-mother, 
as  well  as  six  children.  Filial  piety  has  seldom  found 
fuller  opportunity  for  exercise.  The  Phlipons  and 
Besnards,  however,  were  well-to-do  folk,  who  pre- 
ferred living  apart  to  crowding  together  under  one 
roof-tree;  so  Manon's  closet,  filled  with  books  and 
flowers,  was  her  own  kingdom.  Here  she  spent  most 
of  her  time  reading,  writing,  and  studying.  "  Cell  a 
continuata  dulcescit"  to  the  student  as  well  as  to  the 
monk.  "The  mornings  slip  away  somehow  in  reading 
and  working.    After  dinner  I  go  into  my  little  study, 


RELIGIOUS   DOUBTS  55 

overlooking  the  Seine;  I  take  a  pen,  dream,  think, 
and  write."  "My  violin,  my  guitar,  and  my  pen  are 
three  parts  of  my  life,"  she  wrote  Sophie  Cannet,  who 
soon  after  Manon  left  the  convent  returned  to  Amiens. 

Letters  to  Sophie  filled  a  third  part  of  Manon 's 
existence,  one  thinks  in  turning  the  pages  of  a  long 
correspondence  in  which  her  girlhood  is  reflected  like 
a  spring  landscape  in  a  still  lake.  "  Un  ami  est  un  second 
logis  pour  Vame^^  Manon  believed,  and  her  fancies 
and  thoughts  constantly  winged  their  way  to  this  other 
nesting-place.  For  many  years  Manon  found  in 
Sophie  a  mother-confessor.  "I  am  a  woman,  noth- 
ing human  is  alien  to  me,"  might  have  been  the  de- 
vice of  this  sympathetic  recipient  of  varied  con- 
fidences. Manon's  letters  were  infinitely  precious  to 
her  less  expansive  friend.  The  tiniest  note  was 
cherished  like  a  relic.  Few  love-letters  have  been  so 
reverently  preserved.  Marriage  ended  these  effusions, 
and  poor  Friendship,  shouldered  aside  by  Love,  and 
finally  turned  out-of-doors  by  Hymen,  became  mute. 
Roland  disapproved  of  intimate  relations  between 
his  wife  and  other  women — he  was  a  jealous  god,  and 
discouraged  goddess-worship.  "He  was  wrong,"  wrote 
Madame  Roland,  many  years  later.  "Marriage  is 
grave  and  solemn;  if  you  take  away  from  an  affec- 
tionate woman  the  sweets  of  friendship  with  persons 
of  her  own  sex,  you  deprive  her  heart  of  a  necessary 
aliment,  and  you  expose  her  to  danger." 

These  letters,  given  by  Sophie's  eldest  son,  the 
Chevalier  de  Gomiecourt,  to  Auguste  Breuil,  and  pub- 
lished in  1 841,  furnish  a  valuable  commentary  to  the 
first  part  of  the  private  Memoirs.     They  provide  the 


56  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

"deadly  parallel  column"  by  which  accuracy,  if  not 
veracity,  may  be  tested.  They  present  in  a  series  of 
delicate  vignettes  the  story  of  a  girl's  life  in  the  Paris 
of  Voltaire  and  Necker,  of  Crebillon  fils  and  Lavoisier. 
They  form  a  study  of  the  efflorescence  of  what  Hugo 
called  "a  soul  of  purple  fire,"  and  the  expansion  of  a 
mind  so  penetrating  and  so  active  that  it  invests  every 
object  presented  to  it  with  a  kind  of  luminous  clearness 
and  relief.  Thoughts,  emotions,  experiences,  are  noted 
and  analyzed,  as  they  rise  in  mind  or  heart,  or  enter 
from  without  with  the  happenings  of  daily  life.  The 
irruption  of  novel  ideas,  the  modifications  of  accepted 
theories,  the  flowering  of  sentiment  are  seized  in  their 
inception,  captured  on  the  wing,  and  sent  like  a  votive 
oflF"ering  of  young  doves  to  Sophie.  For  though  the 
letters  form  a  journal  of  the  inner  life  of  a  girl  from 
the  age  of  sixteen  to  twenty-five,  they  are  also  acts 
of  devotion  to  a  friendship  that  is  marvellously  akin 
to  love.  The  pages  glow  with  loving  terms:  ''  Je  vats 
quitter  la  plume  mais  non  ta  chere  image";  '^ Regois  ce 
baiser  defeu";  and  (surely  fresh  from  some  old  Latin's 
love-poem)  ''Adieu,  divine,  aie  soin  de  toi  pour  nous.*' 
Intelligence  is  companioned  by  affection.  Tenderness 
underlies  the  description  of  Systemes,  accompanies  a 
summary  of  Delolme's  History  of  England,  a  criticism 
of  Pope's  optimism,  or  a  lesson  in  physical  geography. 
Every  object  the  young  enthusiast  touches  glows 
lambently,  made  living  by  the  warmth  of  an  imagina- 
tion as  brilliant  as  it  is  healthy. 

All  Manon's  acquisitions  are  instantly  shared  with 
her  friend.  A  description  of  every  day's  work  and 
play  is  faithfully  rendered  "to  my  queen,  to  whom  I 


RELIGIOUS  DOUBTS  57 

must  account  for  what  Is  hers."  A  narrative  of  the 
events  of  the  outer,  as  well  as  the  reflections  and  ex- 
periences of  the  inner,  life  is  set  down  that  the  friend 
in  Amiens  may  have  her  part  in  Manon's  daily  exist- 
ence. Few  lovers  have  been  so  assiduous — none  so 
copious.  Nor  does  the  abundance  of  the  material  les- 
sen the  vivacity  of  its  manner.  '' Elle  Halt  nee  scribe^" 
pronounced  Michelet.  Her  letters  possess  a  quality 
which  it  is  difficult  to  express;  perhaps  because  in 
them  the  defects  of  the  witty,  artificial  century  find  no 
place.  These  reflections  and  descriptions  are  free  from 
the  frivolity  and  the  spiritual  dryness  that  were  per- 
haps the  inevitable  accompaniments  of  overrefinement 
and  the  spread  of  a  positive  philosophy.  There  is  a 
delicate  enjoyment,  like  breathing  sweet  air  or  tast- 
ing pure,  cool  water,  in  the  perusal  of  these  chronicles 
of  an  outwardly  simple  life.  The  good  humor  of  per- 
fect health,  the  contentment  born  of  simple  habits 
and  temperate  pleasures,  soften  even  the  "violent 
delights"  of  new  discoveries  in  books  and  humanity. 
The  tranquillity  of  a  studious  existence,  unfretted  by 
material  cares,  and  free  from  social  obligations,  rises 
like  a  faint  fragrance  from  these  records.  The  seclusion 
of  the  girl's  life  and  her  lack  of  social  dissipation 
enabled  her  to  give  not  only  her  time  to  study  and 
reflection  but  her  young  vitality  as  well.  It  was  her 
habit  to  read  and  write  not  only  the  greater  part  of 
the  day  but  half  the  night.  There  was  a  certain  quench- 
less force  in  her  that  seemed  inexhaustible,  a  youthful 
elasticity  that  remained  with  her  always,  that  lent 
her  an  **air  of  freshness  and  adolescence"  even  in  her 
prime,  and  that  grief  and  anxiety  could  not  subdue. 


S8  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

**  J'Hudie  parce  que  j'ai  hesoin  d'etudier  comme  de  man- 
ger.^^    Study  is  her  hygiene  of  the  soul. 

It  was  material  for  thought  that  she  sought,  ob- 
jects to  occupy  an  active  intellect  and  a  vivid  imag- 
ination, not  a  collection  of  antiquities,  nor  a  set  of  showy 
acquirements  for  her  mental  furniture;  as  matter  for 
reflection  was  her  quest,  she  read,  she  did  not  "read 
up."  Notes  were  taken,  abstracts  and  extracts  made 
of  her  daily  reading,  and  the  essence  of  it  sent  to 
Sophie,  who,  poor  dear,  had  no  time  for  books,  as  her 
empty  hours  were  passed  at  cards,  at  routs,  and  in 
conferences  with  her  dressmaker.  The  social  life  of 
a  small  but  gay  town  left  her  no  leisure  for  study, 
and  Manon's  letters  were  thus  doubly  dear  to  her. 

For  some  time  the  girls  were  one  in  thought,  then 
the  inevitable  occurred,  where  one  friend  reads,  ex- 
amines, and  reflects,  and  the  other  does  not.  Through 
study  and  inquiry,  Manon,  the  impassioned  mystic, 
was  growing  into  a  reasonable  and  intelligent  young 
woman.  Not  long  after  she  left  the  convent  she  heard 
the  whispers  of  religious  doubt,  and  felt  the  necessity 
of  rationalizing  her  faith  (1772). 

The  first  dogma  of  her  creed  to  which  her  heart  as 
well  as  her  reason  refused  assent  was,  of  course,  the 
damnation  of  all  those  who  had  not  known  or  accepted 
it.  Disbelief  in  infallibility  followed  the  rejection  of 
the  doctrine  of  exclusive  salvation.  She  was  evidently 
deceived,  or  misunderstood  some  articles  of  her  religion; 
it  was  therefore  a  duty  to  examine  them  all.  "From 
the  moment  a  Catholic  has  arrived  at  this  point  the 
Church  may  regard  him  as  lost.  What  then  remains 
that  is  true?"  Manon  asked  herself,  and  her  reading, 


RELIGIOUS   DOUBTS  59 

which  had  been  miscellaneous  for  several  years,  was 
directed  to  an  active  and  anxious  search  after  truth. 
Hitherto  her  attention  had  been  drawn  to  many  sub- 
jects. She  had  fed  on  the  books  in  the  library  of  her 
uncle's  vicar,  where  she  was  left  to  browse  on  Sundays 
and  feast-days  while  her  mother  and  Mademoiselle 
d'Hannaches  played  backgammon  with  the  two  priests. 
There  was  provender  for  the  devout;  the  works  of  the 
Fathers  of  the  Church,  and  the  Lives  of  the  Fathers 
of  the  Desert,  Bossuet's  Universal  History,  and  the 
Letters  of  Saint  Jerome.  In  the  thick  of  the  cowls 
shone  the  helmet  of  Mambrino,  and  Manon  found  the 
dear  knight  of  La  Mancha  wedged  between  Jesuit 
scholars  and  holy  hermits. 

The  vicar's  books  devoured,  Manon  went  to  the 
lending  libraries  for  fresh  forage.  There  she  found 
fare  for  all  palates.  She  chose  first  translations  of 
the  historians  of  antiquity,  followed  them  with  Mon- 
tesquieu, Locke,  and  Burlamaqui,  and  continued  rather 
frivolously  with  French  plays.  She  had  no  plans  for 
consecutive  reading.  She  wished  to  know  for  the  sake 
of  knowledge,  and  to  exercise  a  keen  and  active  intel- 
ligence. She  desired  happiness  like  all  healthy  young 
creatures,  and  she  sought  it  in  the  full  development 
of  her  faculties.  "I  know  nothing  comparable  to  the 
fulness  of  life,  of  peace,  of  contentment,  of  this  happy 
time  of  innocence  and  study,"  she  wrote  many  years 
afterwards. 

To  breathe  the  air  of  Paris,  electrical  with  intel- 
ligence, pollent  with  ideas;  to  love  study,  to  possess 
books  and  leisure,  to  be  in  life's  morning,  free  from 
cares  and  insistent  duties;    with  the  memory  a  fair 


6o  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

tablet,  the  brain  unwearied,  the  mind  not  yet  a  palimp- 
sest of  accumulated  thoughts;  while  the  bitter  fruits 
of  the  Tree  are  still  the  golden  apples  of  the  Hesperides 
is  surely  to  know  pure  delight.  How  could  Manon 
escape  happiness  ? 

Desultory  reading  now  converged  towards  a  focal 
point.  How  much  of  that  faith  which  had  been  at 
once  a  rule  of  life  and  her  highest  source  of  happiness 
would  remain  to  her  after  such  research  and  examina- 
tion as  were  in  her  power  to  give  to  it  ?  It  was  with 
an  unquiet  mind  and  a  heavy  heart  that  the  girl  began 
the  old  torturing  quest,  "Given  self,  to  find  God." 
Manon  was  no  smug,  priggish  doubter.  Her  affec- 
tions and  her  memories  were  intertwined  with  the 
forms  and  objects  of  her  religion.  To  renounce  it  was 
to  go  out  naked  and  alone  into  a  dark,  desolate  place. 
Much  of  the  poetry  of  her  outwardly  narrow  life  she 
owed  to  the  ceremonies,  the  color  and  music  and  emo- 
tion made  visible,  of  an  elaborate  ritual.  She  clung 
to  the  dear  familiar  forms  as  the  newly  made  Chris- 
tian might  to  the  beautiful  household  gods  and  the 
genial  observances  of  pagan  worship.  And  yet  that 
persistent  voice  of  reason  would  make  itself  heard, 
questioning  and  comparing,  above  the  Latin  prayers 
and  the  solemn  chants. 

Manon  carried  her  doubts  to  her  confessor,  who 
immediately  equipped  her  with  the  works  of  the  de- 
fenders of  her  wavering  faith.  She  read,  marked,  and 
annotated  these  authorities.  She  made  marginal  com- 
ments in  the  books  themselves  which  astonished  her 
confessor,  and  which  may  still  be  read  by  the  curious 
in  such  matters.     She  found  the  justification  of  her 


RELIGIOUS  DOUBTS  6i 

Incredulity  and  the  replies  to  her  queries  in  the  perusal 
of  these  controversial  works,  however,  for  they  sup- 
plied her  with  the  titles  of  the  books  they  endeavored 
to  refute.  Resolved  to  subject  all  the  articles  of  her 
creed  to  the  test  of  reason,  Manon  obtained  the  pro- 
hibited volumes.  They  offered  the  touchstone  she 
Sought.  Thus  D'Holbach's  Bon  Sens,  Maupertuis's 
Systeme  de  la  Nature,  Voltaire's  Essai  sur  les  Mceurs 
and  Dictionnaire  Philosophique.  D'Argen's  Lettres 
Juives,  the  De  I'Esprit  of  Helvetius,  the  works  of  Di- 
derot, D'Alembert,  and  the  Abbe  Raynal  were  read, 
criticised,  and  analyzed. 

In  her  cell  at  Sainte  Pelagic,  long  afterwards,  Ma- 
dame Roland  compressed  into  a  few  sentences  the 
essence  of  several  years  of  meditation  and  study.  "In 
the  midst  of  doubts,  uncertainties,  and  inquiries  rela- 
tive to  these  great  subjects,  I  concluded,  without  hesi- 
tation, that  the  unity  of  the  individual,  if  I  may  thus 
express  myself,  the  most  complete  harmony,  that  is 
to  say,  between  his  opinions  and  actions,  was  neces- 
sary to  his  personal  happiness.  Accordingly,  we  must 
examine  carefully  what  is  right,  and  when  we  have 
found  it,  practise  it  rigorously.  There  is  a  kind  of 
justice  to  be  observed  to  oneself  even  if  one  lived  alone 
in  the  world.  One  should  govern  all  his  feelings  and 
habits  in  order  not  to  be  enslaved  by  any  one  of  them. 
A  being  is  good  in  itself  when  all  its  parts  concur  to 
its  preservation,  its  maintenance,  or  its  perfection; 
this  is  not  less  true  in  the  moral  than  in  the  physical 
world.  A  well-balanced  organization,  an  equilibrium 
of   humors    constitute    health;   wholesome    food    and 


62  MANON   PHLIPON   ROLAND 

moderate  exercise  preserve  it.  The  concord  of  our 
desires  and  the  harmony  of  the  passions  form  the  moral 
constitution  of  which  wisdom  alone  can  secure  the 
excellence  and  duration.  These  first  principles  are 
based  on  self-interest,  and  in  this  respect  it  may  be 
truly  said  that  virtue  is  only  soundness  of  judgment 
applied  to  morals.  But  virtue,  properly  so  called,  is 
born  from  the  relations  of  a  being  with  his  fellow 
beings;  justice  to  ourselves  is  wisdom;  justice  to 
others  is  virtue. 

**In  society  all  is  relative;  there  is  no  independent 
happiness.  We  are  obliged  to  sacrifice  a  part  of  what 
we  might  enjoy  in  order  not  to  lose  the  whole,  and  to 
secure  a  portion  against  all  attacks.  Even  here  the 
balance  is  in  favor  of  reason.  However  laborious  may 
be  the  Hfe  of  the  honest,  that  of  the  vicious  is  more  so. 
He  who  puts  himself  in  opposition  to  the  interests  of 
the  greatest  number  is  seldom  at  peace.  It  is  impos- 
sible for  him  to  hide  from  himself  that  he  is  surrounded 
by  enemies,  or  by  those  who  are  ready  to  become  so, 
and  such  a  situation  is  always  painful,  however  splen- 
did it  may  appear.  Add  to  these  considerations  the 
sublime  instinct  [of  rectitude]  which  corruption  may 
lead  astray,  but  which  no  false  philosophy  can  ever 
annihilate,  which  impels  us  to  admire  and  love  wisdom 
and  generous  actions  as  we  do  grandeur  and  beauty 
in  nature  and  the  arts — and  we  shall  have  the  source 
of  human  virtue,  independent  of  every  religious  sys- 
tem, of  the  mazes  of  metaphysics,  and  the  impostures 
of  priests.  .  .  .  The  beautiful  idea  of  a  Divine  Creator, 
whose  providence  watches  over  the  world;  the  spir- 
itual nature  of  the  soul,  and,  lastly,  its  immortality, 


RELIGIOUS  DOUBTS  63 

that  consolation  of  persecuted  and  suffering  virtue — 
are  these  nothing  more  than  lovely  and  splendid  il- 
lusions ?  Yet  what  clouds  envelop  these  difficult  prob- 
lems !  What  multiplied  objections  rise  if  we  try  to 
treat  them  with  mathematical  exactness !  But  no, 
the  human  mind  is  not  fitted  ever  to  see  them  in  the 
light  of  perfected  evidence.  What  does  it  matter  to 
the  sensitive  soul  that  it  cannot  prove  them  ?  Is  it 
not  enough  for  it  to  feel  them.  .  .  .  The  atheist  is 
not,  in  my  eyes,  a  man  of  bad  faith;  I  can  live  with 
him  as  well  as — even  better  than — with  the  devotee, 
for  he  reasons  more,  but  he  is  deficient  in  a  certain 
sense.  .  .  .  He  is  cold  before  a  ravishingly  beauti- 
ful spectacle,  and  he  hunts  for  a  syllogism  where  I 
offer  a  thankgiving." 

Investigation,  then,  though  it  dispelled  the  super- 
stitions of  the  girl's  religion,  left  its  spirit  and  its  pure 
and  tender  personal  ideal  untouched.  Tomes  of  de- 
structive criticism  only  enlarged  Manon's  elevated 
conceptions  of  God  and  of  duty.  She  was  still  in  the 
age  of  faith  compared  to  the  modern  seeker  after 
things  divine,  for  only  duty  remained  to  George  Eliot, 
as  she  sorrowfully  confessed  to  Frederick  Myers. 

Manon,  convinced  of  the  reality  of  these  fundamental 
beliefs,  with  her  moral  code  firmly  established  on  a 
rational  basis,  kept  her  scepticism  to  herself  and  her 
director.  She  daily  attended  mass  with  her  mother, 
"for  the  edification  of  her  neighbor,"  and  she  confessed 
to  the  priest  to  whom  she  had  confided  her  loss  of  faith. 
She  conformed  outwardly,  like  a  patriotic  old  pagan, 
who  identified  the  practice  of  his  national  religion 
with  his  loyalty  to  his  country.    To  have  done  other- 


64  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

wise  would  have  deeply  shocked  and  grieved  her  parents 
and  scandaHzed  her  friends.  Manon  was  no  "come- 
outer,"  no  Protestant.  If  the  spiritual  must  be  ma- 
terialized for  the  mass  of  mankind,  there  were  no 
grander  or  lovelier  forms  than  those  of  her  own  church. 
As  with  Manon  freer  thinking  implied  in  its  increased 
sense  of  individual  responsibility  strict  rules  of  living, 
perhaps  her  religious  life  was  even  more  intense  than 
in  her  convent  days.  She  held  that  those  who  cast 
aside  conventional  religious  restraints  were  committed 
to  the  severest  self-control  in  conduct  lest  it  be  sus- 
pected that  they  sought  freedom  of  thought  for  license 
in  behavior. 

"  Une  dme  droite  portee  au  scepticisme  se  sent  obligee 
a  une  vertu  exacte  et  severe.  Sans  la  pratique  de  la  plus 
grande  justice,  elle  craindroit  de  n  avoir  secoue  le  joug 
que  par  un  desir  coupable  de  se  livrer  a  ses  penchants, 
sans  gene.  Faire  suppleer  les  ceuvres  a  la  foi,  me  parait 
le  seul  moyen  d'eviter  les  remords."  (June  9,  1776.)  The 
strictness  of  her  moral  code  never  relaxed.  She  dis- 
covered early  in  her  researches  that  righteous  living 
is  not  dependent  on  orthodox  opinions  of  the  nature 
of  the  Trinity. 

There  was  another  reason  for  her  outward  conform- 
ity, a  powerful  one  with  a  proud  and  sensitive  girl. 
The  ewe-lamb  who  deserted  the  fold  was  generally 
classed  with  the  goats  by  a  cynical  public,  whose  judg- 
ment was  often  confirmed  by  the  caprioles  of  the 
emancipated  lamb.  Naturally  enough  when  an  ethical 
code  rests  on  a  basis  of  theological  teaching,  it  loses 
its  authority  when  its  foundation  crumbles.  ''La 
religion  est  notre  etiquette  de  sagesse."    "Religion  is  our 


RELIGIOUS  DOUBTS  65 

label  of  virtue"  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  Manon 
thought,  and  the  wise  virgin  was  careful  to  keep  her 
certificate  of  merit  in  evidence. 

Manon's  scepticism,  then,  was  a  secret  to  every  one 
except  her  director  until  she  received  a  letter  from 
Sophie  confessing  that  her  own  faith  was  troubled. 
The  tone  of  the  age  affected  the  most  devout  as  climate 
affects  the  most  robust.  Manon,  deeply  touched  and 
somewhat  reproached  by  this  confidence,  so  much 
greater  than  her  own  had  been,  opened  her  heart  and 
mind  at  once  to  her  friend.  Her  doubts  and  criticisms, 
inquiries  and  convictions,  were  described  to  Sophie. 
Manon's  letters  were  always  placed  on  her  mother's 
work-table,  that  she  might  look  them  over  before  they 
were  posted;  she  must  therefore  have  known  of  her 
daughter's  increasing  unbelief.  The  discreet  parent 
never  mentioned  the  subject,  however.  Manon's  reti- 
cence may  have  been  an  inheritance,-  or  reading  the 
letters  may  have  bored  Madame  Phlipon.  She  com- 
bated Sophie's  opinions,  and  was  sometimes  a  little 
unreasonable  in  her  censures  of  her  friend's  indepen- 
dence of  spirit  and  lack  of  deference  for  authority. 
Still,  this  controversial  correspondence  (for  Sophie's 
letters  may  be  inferred  from  Manon's  replies  to  them) 
denotes  a  high  degree  of  intellectual  and  social  culture 
and  an  amiable  openness  of  mind  hard  to  parallel  in 
most  religious  discussions.  Each  girl  is  sincere,  even 
impassioned,  and  desirous  of  convincing  her  friend, 
and  yet  their  mutual  affection  remains  undiminished 
by  their  radical  differences.  ''  Au  milieu  de  tout  cela 
il  est  bien  doux  de  pouvoir  se  dire  impunement,  je  ne 
pense  pas  comme  toiy  mais  je  ne  I'en  aime  pas  moins.'* 


66  MANON   PHLIPON   ROLAND 

These  letters  contain  Manon's  profession  of  faith. 
When  a  few  weeks  before  her  death,  in  the  soHtude  of 
her  cell,  she  wrote  the  credo  of  her  riper  years,  it  was 
but  a  summary  of  her  girlish  convictions. 

*' Enlarge  your  God,"  Diderot  said  to  his  followers, 
and  long  before  man  was  emancipated,  the  idea  of 
deity  was  freed  from  the  fetters  of  creed,  and  also  from 
the  limitations  of  definition.  Manon's  conception 
of  the  Supreme  Being  pales  and  brightens  with  her 
studies  and  meditations.  "It  is  only  credulity  that 
is  always  the  same,  because  it  no  longer  reasons  on 
subjects  that  it  has  once  decided  to  accept,"  she  ex- 
plains, to  justify  her  mutations.  Sometimes  hers  was 
the  God  that  Voltaire  discovered  at  the  end  of  a  chain 
of  argument,  that  moral  necessity  that  should  be  in- 
vented if  it  did  not  already  exist.  Then  the  rather 
detached  "Father  of  All"  of  Pope's  "Universal  Prayer" 
received  her  homage.  Rousseau's  Etre  Supreme^  who 
had  inherited  something  of  the  tenderness  of  the  Good 
Shepherd  of  her  childhood's  orisons,  won  her  allegiance. 
For  though  justice  seems  to  Manon  the  most  godlike 
of  attributes,  it  is  the  thought  of  the  Divine  Love  that 
appeals  irresistibly  to  her. 

On  one  page  she  assures  Sophie  that  the  existence 
of  God  is  self-evident;  the  order  and  harmony  of  the 
universe  bear  witness  to  the  operation  of  a  Supreme 
Intelligence.  A  little  later  she  confesses:  "I  believe 
a  Being  necessary,  but  I  do  not  know  what  He  is,  and 
I  do  not  try  to  define  Him.  It  is  impossible  for  men 
to  have  exact  ideas.  I  refuse  the  definitions  that  are 
given  me  because  they  seem  contradictory  to  me.  We 
do  not  know  enough  about  the  essence  of  things  to 


RELIGIOUS  DOUBTS  (fj 

assign  to  matter  all  the  properties  which  it  is  or  is  not 
susceptible  of  possessing.  Spiritual  substance  seems 
to  me  either  a  confused  assemblage  of  negations  or 
only  vague,  undetermined  notions.  I  know  nothing 
about  it  and  I  do  not  complain;  it  is  the  destiny  of 
my  nature,  which  was  not  made  to  reason  about  things 
that  I  cannot  understand.  The  science  of  living  is 
the  only  one  that  is  within  my  power,  and  it  is  in- 
dependent of  chimerical  speculations;  examination  of 
them  has  left  me  unaffected. 

"What  an  inconceivable  being  we  have  made  of 
the  Divinity  !  Men  have  lent  God  their  passions,  and 
judge  Him  by  themselves.  Infinite  wisdom  united 
to  supreme  power  is  necessarily  benevolent,  it  per- 
fects or  it  annihilates."  It  is  only  in  the  study  that 
she  doubts;  when  her  heart  speaks,  she  loves  and 
prays  as  in  her  childhood:  ^^ V esprit  a  heau  s^avancer, 
il  ne  va  jamais  aussi  loin  que  le  cceur.''*  "Every  time 
that  I  walk  in  quiet  meditation  with  peace  in  my  soul, 
through  a  smiling  landscape  whose  every  charm  I 
feel,  it  is  a  delicious  thought  that  I  owe  these  blessings 
to  a  Divine  Intelligence.  I  love  and  long  to  believe. 
It  is  only  in  my  dusty  study,  poring  over  my  books, 
or  in  the  giddy  crowds  of  the  world,  that  sentiment 
withers  away,  and  reason  looms  darkly  behind  clouds 
of  doubt  and  the  poisonous  exhalations  of  unbelief." 

Beauty  to  Manon  is  the  sacrament  of  heaven.  Under 
the  dome  of  the  firmament,  or  in  the  vast  aisles  of  the 
forest,  she  is  filled  with  an  ecstasy  of  joy  and  gratitude, 
akin  in  degree  though  not  in  kind  to  that  of  the  saintly 
visionary.  Leaning  out  of  her  lattice  into  the  ineffable 
glories  of  the  sunset,  she  wrote :  "O  Thou,  whose  exist- 


68  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

ence  my  reason  almost  denies,  but  whom  my  heart 
yearns  for,  and  burns  to  adore.  First  Intelligence, 
Supreme  Ordainer,  all  good  and  powerful  God  who 
I  love  to  believe  art  the  creator  of  everything  that  is 
grateful  to  me,  receive  my  worship,  and  if  Thou  art 
but  an  illusion,  be  Thou  mine  forever."  Was  not  this 
longing  its  own  fulfilment  ?  Her  petition  was  an- 
swered. The  chimere  divine  remained  with  her  when 
all  her  earthly  illusions  had  vanished.  "Just  God  re- 
ceive me,"  she  prayed  before  she  went  to  death  as  to 
a  triumph. 

If  Manon's  conceptions  of  the  inconceivable  fluc- 
tuated, her  ideas  of  duty  suffered  no  change.  The 
humanitarian  movement  of  the  age  found  a  vibrating 
response  in  her  generous  mind.  Not  only  to  love  your 
neighbor  but  to  serve  him  was  the  new  gospel.  Not 
new  either,  but  a  beautiful  old  one  with  a  novel  mo- 
tive power.  To  a  Latin,  society  and  the  individual's 
relations  to  it  were  of  primary  importance.  The  stoics 
ceased  to  influence  Manon  because  she  could  not  follow 
counsels  of  perfection  that  isolated  the  individual  and 
suppressed  the  affections.  "My  passion,  or  my  present 
illusion,  if  one  may  call  it  so,  has  for  its  object  the  gen- 
eral good.  The  vocation  of  man  is  sociability,  his 
first  duty  is  to  be  useful.  In  my  eyes  the  chief  and 
finest  of  virtues  consists  in  the  love  of  the  public  good, 
in  that  of  the  unfortunate,  and  in  the  wish  to  help 
them." 

Manon's  benevolence  was  not  limited  to  a  mere 
wish  to  aid  the  unfortunate.  She  found  ample  exercise 
for  beneficence  near  at  hand,  and  her  charities  were 
her  only  extravagance.     There  was  always  some  one 


RELIGIOUS   DOUBTS  69 

who  needed  her  money  more  than  she  did,  and  her 
dress  allowance  generally  clothed  somebody  else 
(January  13,  1776);  poverty  irked  her  only  when  it 
restricted  her  generosity.  Occasionally  she  appealed 
to  Sophie  for  help,  which  was  always  bountifully  be- 
stowed. 

Two  of  her  proteges  were  always  with  her.  One 
was  ^'le  gentilhomme  malheureux^"  a  M.  de  Chalms,  an 
impoverished  nobleman  and  his  wife.  These  people, 
who  were  as  accomplished  as  they  were  unfortunate, 
desired  to  open  a  school,  and  Manon  borrowed  of  Sophie 
the  money  which  they  were  obliged  to  deposit  before 
doing  so.  A  year  or  so  afterwards,  knowing  that  they 
were  still  embarrassed,  Manon  repaid  it  herself.  "La 
Petite  Leveilly,"  the  daughter  of  a  boon  companion 
of  M.  Phlipon,  was  cared  for  by  Manon  for  several 
years.  {Fide  the  Cannet  Letters  from  October  31, 
I775>  to  May  29,  1778.)  "She  is  a  poor  little  creature, 
very  unhappy,  whose  lot  is  to  weep  and  to  work.'* 
Her  father  was  idle  and  dissipated,  and  her  guardian, 
a  man  of  some  position,  offered  to  buy  his  daughter 
of  him.  Manon  rescued  the  girl,  who  was  hardly  more 
than  a  child,  and  found  her  lodgings,  clothes,  and  work. 
La  Petite,  who  painted  fans,  could  by  toiling  from  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning  until  midnight  earn  enough 
to  keep  alive.  Manon,  who  mothered  her,  petted  her 
occasionally,  took  her  to  the  Luxemburg  gardens,  to 
church,  and  to  visit  her  friends.  She  was  so  tender  of 
the  Petite's  self-respect  that  she  learned  fan-painting 
of  her  that  the  child  might  not  feel  that  the  obliga- 
tion was  all  on  one  side.  Manon  objected  to  M. 
Phlipon's  inviting  her  to  the  family  dinner  on  New 


70  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

Year's  day,  because  it  seemed  like  advertising  her 
own  beneficence,  "like  exhibiting  her  in  my  livery." 
"Send  her  a  message;  she  is  as  sensitive  as  we  are," 
Manon  wrote  Sophie,  who  had  given  her  money  for 
the  Petite* s  necessities. 

While  always  guarding  the  girl's  dignity,  Manon 
ventured  to  advise  and  warn  her.  "She  has  sworn 
to  me,  many  times,  with  her  hands  in  mine,  that  she 
will  always  be  faithful  to  virtue  .  .  .  and  if  she  should 
cease  to  be  virtuous,  I  shall  admire  her  for  having  long 
remained  so.'* 

Doubting  Manon  encouraged  her  protegee's  pious 
practices,  for  the  sceptic  was  convinced  "of  the  sweet- 
ness and  strength  of  religious  ideas  to  charm  away 
the  evils  of  life,  while  philosophy  only  lays  upon  us 
the  yoke  of  inevitable  necessity."  (April  25,  1778.) 
The  poor  little  Leveilly  was  in  need  of  all  the  conso- 
lation her  faith  could  bestow.  She  was  dogged  by 
misfortune.  Her  good-for-nothing  father  shared  her 
tiny  earnings,  ill-treated  her  when  she  refused  to  help 
him,  and  prevented  her  from  taking  the  situations 
that  Manon  and  Sister  Agathe  found  for  her.  Work 
failed,  and  in  her  absence  the  lock  of  her  chamber  door 
was  forced  and  her  small  possessions  stolen.  The  lot 
of  une  petite  ouvriere  en  chambre  was  as  hard  in  the 
eighteenth  century  as  it  is  in  the  twentieth,  and  after 
Manon  left  Paris  the  girl  lost  heart;  she  had  no  one 
to  protect  her  against  her  father  and  her  guardian. 
Manon  finally  was  obliged  to  limit  her  admiration 
to  the  poor  girl's  past  as  she  had  promised  herself 
she  should  do  if  it  became  impossible  to  esteem  her 
present.    Among  the  last  words  that  Madame  Roland 


RELIGIOUS  DOUBTS  71 

wrote  before  her  execution  were  a  few  brief  lines  of 
regret  for  her  lost  Petite. 

Desire  of  service,  a  new  form  of  self-dedication  to 
an  ideal  of  sacrifice,  had  heightened  Manon's  interest 
in  public  affairs  and  widened  her  mental  horizon. 
Even  her  benevolence  was  generalized:  ** Although 
the  obscurity  of  my  birth,  name,  and  position  seem  to 
preclude  me  from  taking  any  interest  in  the  govern- 
ment, yet  I  feel  that  the  common  weal  touches  me  in 
spite  of  it.  My  country  is  something  to  me,  and  the 
love  I  bear  it  is  most  unquestionable.  How  could  it 
be  otherwise,  since  nothing  in  the  world  is  indifferent 
to  me  .^  I  am  something  of  a  cosmopolitan,  and  a  love 
of  humanity  unites  me  to  everything  that  breathes. 
A  Carib  interests  me;  the  fate  of  a  Kaffir  goes  to  my 
heart.  Alexander  wished  for  more  worlds  to  conquer. 
I  could  wish  for  others  to  love." 

This  latitude  of  mind  proved  as  consoling  as  it  was 
stimulating,  and  minimized  the  increasing  personal 
privations  of  Manon's  life.  "I  heard  this  evening  of 
the  resignation  of  M.  Turgot.  It  vexed  and  stunned 
me.  One  of  his  financial  measures  has  acted  hurt- 
fully  on  my  father's  affairs,  and  therefore  on  mine 
also.  But  it  is  not  by  private  interests  that  I  judge 
him."  (May  17,  1776.)  Fine  sentiments  are  surely 
of  practical  utility  when  they  reconcile  the  taxpayer 
to  a  flattened  purse.  Let  the  egotist  complain  of  his 
curtailed  income !  Is  there  not  solace  for  the  larger- 
hearted,  broader-minded  in  the  thought:  "Quand  on 
nest  pas  habitue  a  identifier  son  inter et  et  sa  gloire  avec 
le  hien  et  la  splendeur  du  general^  on  va  toujours  petite- 
ment,  se  recherchant  soi-memey  et  perdant  le  hut  auquel 
on  doit  tendre  "  ? 


72  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

Not  very  novel  to-day  this  view  of  public  affairs, 
which  is  stuff  of  the  conscience  to  many  of  us,  but  it 
is  owing  to  the  innovators  of  the  Revolution  that  such 
ideas  have  now  become  usual,  almost  commonplace. 
It  was  this  conviction  that  drove  famished  recruits 
against  the  veteran  armies  of  Europe,  and  sent  the 
Republic's  ideals  with  her  victories  on  their  triumphal 
march  over  the  continent. 

Manon's  preoccupation  with  general  ideas  did  not 
crowd  out  a  lively  interest  in  herself,  an  interest  that 
might  have  grown  morbid  if  her  intellectual  curiosity 
had  not  been  exercised  on  many  objects.  Le  moi  in- 
terieuTy  though  kept  under  close  observation,  was  only 
one  of  her  subjects  of  thought.  It  is  rather  surprising 
to  discover  in  the  notes  of  this  little  Parisienne,  so 
long  before  Goethe,  sentences  like  these: 

"The  knowledge  of  ourselves  is  no  doubt  the  most 
useful  of  the  sciences.  Everything  tends  to  turn 
towards  that  object  the  desire  to  know  which  is  born 
in  us,  a  desire  we  try  to  satisfy  by  acquainting  our- 
selves with  the  histories  of  all  past  nations.  This  is 
by  no  means  a  useless  habit  if  we  know  how  to  avail 
ourselves  of  it.  My  views  in  reading  are  already  very 
different  from  those  I  entertained  a  few  years  ago; 
for  I  am  less  anxious  to  know  facts  than  men;  in  the 
history  of  nations  and  empires  I  look  for  the  human 
heart,  and  I  think  that  I  discover  it  too.  Man  is  the 
epitome  of  the  universe;  the  revolutions  in  the  world 
without  are  an  image  of  those  which  take  place  in  his 
own  soul." 

The  soul !  That  was  the  only  element  possessed 
of  absolute  and  ultimate  value  in  the  whole  universe. 


RELIGIOUS   DOUBTS  73 

Manon,  like  poor  Malvolio,  thought  "nobly  of  the 
soul."  It  stood  for  personality,  for  character,  for  con- 
science, and  was  identical  with  free  will.  Self-com- 
mand and  self-study  purified  and  strengthened  it. 
"Let  us  endeavor  to  know  ourselves;  let  us  not  be  that 
factitious  thing  which  can  only  exist  by  the  help  of 
others.  Soyons  nous!^^  Manon  wrote,  the  social  in- 
stinct momentarily  in  abeyance  to  the  need  of  self- 
expression.  But  a  mind  developed  by  study,  ripened 
by  reflection,  does  not  manifest  itself  in  pure  self- 
assertion.  Manon's  aim  was  not  to  express  her  per- 
sonality but  to  understand  it.  Her  endeavor  was  to 
render  her  ego  intelligible  to  herself,  not  audible  to 
others.  Spiritual  as  well  as  mental  cultivation  was  in- 
cluded in  her  scheme  of  living.  "She  was  prodigiously 
industrious  in  the  economy  of  her  life,"  said  her  ear- 
liest biographer,  Dauban,  and  no  one  has  said  better. 
Naturally  avid  of  admiration,  her  habitual  self- 
scrutiny  preserved  her  from  the  form  of  vanity  peculiar 
to  her  sex.  A  woman  without  a  positive  sense  of  value 
sets  no  store  by  herself  per  se.  She  tries  to  acquire 
worth  in  others'  estimation  by  exciting  their  admira- 
tion, or  at  least  attracting  their  attention.  Self-respect 
is  based  on  the  consciousness  of  an  innate  sense  of 
value,  on  the  constancy  and  freedom  of  the  character 
and  the  will — in  a  word,  the  personality.  Self-respect, 
therefore,  cannot  be  acquired  through  the  considera- 
tion of  others,  no  matter  how  admiring  or  worshipful 
their  attitude  may  be.  Women  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury were  generally  not  only  in  functional  dependence 
on  men,  but  were  often  moral  parasites  with  no  vigorous 
structural  existence  of  their  own.     Manon,  by  sheer 


74  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

force  of  character  and  mental  industry,  unconsciously 
achieved  a  spiritual  independence  inestimably  precious 
when  she  became  the  cynosure  of  a  group  of  eloquent 
and  briUiant  young  men. 


CHAPTER    V 

FIRST    SUITORS 

Meanwhile  Manon  had,  instinctively  following 
Lady  Montagu's  advice  to  studious  ladies,  concealed 
her  acquirements  as  though  they  had  been  deformities. 
During  these  years  of  solitary  thought  and  reading, 
she  was  leading  the  simple,  wholesome  life  of  the  young 
girls  of  her  class.  She  shared  her  parents'  gayeties 
and  contributed  to  them.  These  were  often  family 
festivities,  birthdays  and  anniversaries  where  chil- 
dren were  expected  to  entertain  their  elders.  A  sur- 
prise was  always  counted  on  at  these  parties.  Some- 
times it  was  a  copy  of  congratulatory  verses,  written 
out  laboriously  in  the  young  poet's  best  calligraphy, 
or  a  compliment  neatly  engraved,  and  bordered  with 
billing  doves  and  beribboned  wreaths.  Occasionally 
Flora  or  Pomona  in  an  eclectic  classic  costume  would 
present  flowers,  or  offer  fruit  to  the  company.  Fre- 
quently there  was  more  ambitious  mumming,  and  a 
quartet  of  shepherds  and  shepherdesses  of  the  Dres- 
den-china variety  would  make  music,  for  every  young 
person  played  at  least  one  instrument  "indifferent 
well,"  or  a  rustic  ballet  was  danced  by  unnaturally 
tidy  peasants  who  were  apt  to  lose  their  wooden  shoes. 
All  France  loved  acting  and  masking.  Opportunities 
were  not  lacking  even  among  shopkeepers  for  the  dis- 
play of  "talents  de  societe"  and  Manon  danced  and 

75 


76  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

fiddled,  and  rhymed  and  engraved,  to  her  heart's  and 
her  parents'  content. 

There  were  also  the  public  exhibitions  of  fine  and 
industrial  art,  and  the  antiquities  and  curiosities  that 
Paris  has  always  offered  her  spoiled  children.  Holi- 
days came  often,  and  the  Phlipons  observed  them  de- 
voutly. Public  promenades,  palace-gardens,  and  the 
noble  forests  that  still  encircle  the  city  with  a  royal 
girdle  were  visited  in  turn.  "*  Where  shall  we  go  to- 
morrow if  the  weather  be  fine?'  said  my  father  on 
Saturday  evenings  in  summer,  looking  at  me  with  a 
smile.  'Shall  we  go  to  Saint  Cloud?  The  fountains 
are  to  play;   there  will  be  a  crowd  of  people.' 

"'Ah,  papa,  I  should  like  it  far  better  if  you  would 
go  to  Meudon.' " 

So  to  Meudon  they  went  often — Manon  in  a  simple, 
fresh  muslin  gown  with  a  gauze  veil  and  a  nosegay 
for  all  ornament,  and  for  baggage  a  poetry  book.  They 
embarked  at  Port  Royal  In  a  small  boat  which  landed 
them  on  the  shores  of  Belleville,  then  steep  paths  and 
a  stiff  climb  led  them  to  the  Avenue  of  Meudon.  The 
Phlipons  strolled  In  the  park,  explored  the  forest, 
gathered  spotted  ferns  and  woodbine,  watched  the 
deer,  and  napped  at  noon  on  beds  of  leaves  in  the  clear- 
ings. They  dined  with  one  of  the  Swiss  foresters,  and 
supped  on  warm  milk  in  some  rustic  dairy.  One  day 
they  made  a  discovery  that  charmed  Manon  and  served 
to  Illustrate  for  her  the  pastoral  idyls  of  her  revered 
ancients.  In  an  unfrequented  part  of  the  wood  the 
little  party  came  upon  a  pretty,  snug  cottage;  two 
children  were  playing  at  the  door,  "who  had  none  of 
those  signs  of  poverty  so  common  In  the  country," 


FIRST  SUITORS  77 

Manon  noted  significantly.  Their  grandfather  was 
at  work  in  a  well-kept  kitchen-garden,  was  a  robust 
and  cheerful  old  man,  who  reminded  the  reader  of  Vir- 
gil of  his  rustic  on  the  banks  of  the  Galesus.  If  she 
had  been  familiar  with  Longus  or  Tatius,  the  square 
potager  with  its  mingling  of  utile  ei  duke,  of  vegetables 
and  flowers,  its  central  basin  and  shady  arbor,  would 
have  recalled  the  gardens  of  Greek  romances. 

The  Phlipons  dined  al  fresco  under  a  honeysuckle 
on  fresh  eggs,  vegetables,  and  salad,  played  with  the 
children,  chatted  with  the  old  man,  and  promised  to 
return  some  day  for  a  longer  stay.  Our  true  posses- 
sions are  in  our  minds;  Horace  was  not  more  content 
in  the  ownership  of  his  "little  Sabine  farm"  than 
Manon  with  this  glimpse  of  rural  life.  They  were 
good  days,  those  passed  in  the  forests  of  Meudon, 
Montmorenci,  or  Vincennes.  They  left  bright  memo- 
ries, illuminated  pages  rich  with  the  gold  of  sunshine 
filtering  through  leaves,  the  green  of  deep  verdure, 
and  the  brilliant  flower-tints  of  gathered  blossoms,  in 
Madame  Roland's  records. 

The  sense  that  Sainte-Beuve  has  delicately  char- 
acterized as  *7f  sentiment  du  vert''''  was  instinctive  in 
this  town-bred  girl.  From  her  childhood,  in  her  holi- 
day rambles  in  woods  and  fields,  she  had  felt  the  mys- 
terious allurement  of  the  great  earth-mother.  It  was 
not  alone  the  relaxation  of  nervous  tension,  nor  the 
expansion  of  the  senses,  the  elation  of  renewed  vision, 
of  mere  delight  in  bodily  functions,  respiration,  for 
instance,  which  are  Nature's  gifts  to  man  when  he 
returns  to  primitive  conditions  and  lays  his  head  on 
her  breast,  that  Manon  felt  in  her  returns  to  Nature. 


78  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

It  was  exaltation,  a  swift  tenderness,  an  upwelling 
of  grateful  adoration  to  the  Author  of  Beauty  that 
dilated  the  heart  of  a  girl.  Alone  in  the  deep  glades 
of  the  forest  while  her  parents  slept,  she  sought  to 
lighten  her  spirit,  burdened  with  an  excess  of  emotion, 
by  seeking  beyond  all  this  visible  loveliness  a  crea- 
tive and  responsive  intelligence  to  receive  her  homage. 
Naturally  enough,  the  public  promenades  were  less 
pleasing  to  a  young  devotee  who  was  fast  becoming 
a  philosopher.  Those  coups  de  chapeau  that  Madame 
de  Boismorel  had  predicted  began  to  appear,  accom- 
panied by  glances  that  even  the  most  modest  of  maidens 
could  not  fail  to  understand.  Admiration  and  the 
expression  of  it  is  not  stinted  to  pretty  girls  in  Latin 
countries,  and  in  the  Jardin  du  Roi  (now  des  Plantes), 
in  the  gardens  of  the  Arsenal  and  the  Luxembourg, 
they  ran  a  gauntlet  of  appraising  looks  and  approv- 
ing whispers.  Sensitive  and  always  desirous  of  pleas- 
ing, Manon  returned  from  her  walks  in  a  flutter  of 
excitement,  but  her  good  sense  soon  humbled  her  girlish 
vanity.  Pride,  too,  that  powerful  factor  in  the  shaping 
of  her  character  and  career,  suggested  that  the  praise 
of  a  crowd,  composed  of  individuals  who  were  prob- 
ably unworthy  of  regard,  should  be  indifferent  to  a 
young  person  of  serious  views.  In  her  own  room  she 
blushed  as  deeply  for  her  silly  agitation  as  she  had  at 
the  flattering  murmurs  of  those  strange  young  men. 
How  inept  it  was  for  a  reasoning  being  to  waste  time 
in  trying  to  attract  the  ignorant  and  frivolous.  Those 
foolish  little  thrills  of  vanity,  which  she  had  felt  under 
the  rather  insolent  homage  of  glowing  eyes,  were  un- 
worthy of  one  who  was  called  to  noble  duties  and  sweet 


FIRST  SUITORS  79 

tasks.  Curiously  enough,  the  appearance  of  those 
coups  de  chapeau  was  synchronous  with  Manon's  change 
of  view  in  regard  to  her  own  destiny,  her  substitute  of 
the  domestic  for  the  monastic  ideal.  Decline  of  faith 
in  dogma  had  led  (the  girl,  clear-headed  as  she  was, 
and  devoted  to  analysis,  could  hardly  explain  how) 
to  a  secularization  of  her  aspirations.  She  now  in  the 
light  of  awakened  reason  dedicated  herself  anew  to  a 
holy  estate — that  of  matrimony. 

It  was  indeed  holy  in  Manon's  fancy,  "all  made  of 
faith  and  service,  all  adoration,  duty,  and  observance." 
In  her  reflections  on  marriage  Manon  was  so  occupied 
with  the  obligations  of  the  wife  that  she  overlooked 
the  duties  of  the  wife's  husband.  He  was  only  a 
misty  figure  as  yet,  but  an  awesome  being  girt  with 
awful  power,  philosophic  in  his  opinions,  extremely 
learned,  and  very  exacting.  Nevertheless,  Manon  fully 
expected,  by  diligently  cultivating  her  mind  and  sub- 
duing her  temper,  to  become  an  unfailing  source  of 
felicity  to  this  arbitrary  lord,  who  would  reward  her 
virtues  by  giving  her  dear  little  children  whom  she 
could  bring  up  according  to  the  theories  of  Locke  and 
Fenelon  (she  had  not  yet  read  Emile),  and  teach 
(blissful  thought !)  all  the  delightful  things  she  was 
herself  learning.  Her  mission  was  to  fit  herself  for 
this  career  by  diligent  study  instead  of  planning 
pretty  gowns  and  bewitching  caps  for  the  subjugation 
of  peripatetic  males.  Marriage,  then,  its  sacrifices, 
its  abnegations,  and  its  great  recompense,  maternit}^, 
for  the  loss  of  liberty,  and  increase  of  care,  she  now 
decided  was  her  true  vocation. 

The  nubile  youths  of  her  neighborhood  were  also 


8o  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

of  her  opinion,  and  a  procession  of  suitors  began,  as 
many  and  varied  as  that  of  a  princess  in  Perrault's 
fairy-tales.  An  only  daughter,  the  sole  heiress  of  an 
apparently  prosperous  engraver  and  of  childless  rela- 
tives with  comfortable  incomes,  was,  of  course,  a  de- 
sirable parti.  When  the  young  person  added  to  her 
expectations  an  arch,  fresh  face,  all  lilies  and  roses, 
smiles  and  dimples,  a  rounded,  graceful  figure,  and  a 
reputation  for  wit  and  cleverness,  the  levee  en  masse 
of  the  men  of  her  quarter  is  easily  accounted  for. 
Manon  experienced  no  personal  elation,  and  found  all 
this  courtship  quite  the  natural  order  of  things.  She 
observed  philosophically  that  "from  the  moment  that 
a  young  girl  reaches  maturity  a  swarm  of  lovers  hovers 
around  her  like  bees  about  a  newly  opened  flower." 
Among  these  bees  were  two  poor  grasshoppers:  Mig- 
nard,  Manon's  violin  master,  a  colossal,  bearded  Span- 
iard, whose  name  contrasted  piquantly  with  his  ap- 
pearance, and  Mozon,  her  dancing  teacher.  The  family 
butcher,  in  the  splendors  of  a  Sunday  toilet,  "W 
habit  noir  et  fine  dentelle,"  laid  his  heart  and  his  fifty 
thousand  ecus  at  her  feet.  Doctor,  lawyer,  merchant, 
chief,  set  up  their  candidatures,  one  after  another 
or  several  at  a  time.  Owing  to  the  gradual  infiltration 
of  art  through  all  classes  of  society,  its  practitioners 
were  social  hybrids.  They  touched  the  people  with 
one  hand,  the  aristocracy  and  the  court  with  the  other. 
Gatien  Phlipon's  daughter,  with  a  handsome  dowry, 
might,  through  marriage,  enter  a  higher  circle,  that 
of  the  De  Boismorels,  for  instance,  for  though  an  emi- 
nent scientist,  a  painter  of  distinction,  a  celebrated 
writer  might  not  have  the  grandes  entrees,  a  side-door 


TERMINAL  BUST  CAI.LKD  PORTRAIT  OF  MADAMK  ROLAND 
Sculptured  by  Chinard  and  now  in  the  Edmond  Aynard  Collection  at  Lyons 


FIRST  SUITORS  8i 

was  open  to  them  into  the  great  world.  But  it  was  not 
this  consideration  that  influenced  Manon  in  her  un- 
hesitating rejection  of  tradesmen.  She  had  an  ideal, 
a  rather  stern  and  austere  ideal  for  an  enthusiastic 
and  affectionate  girl.  The  lover  of  her  choice  must 
be  a  philosopher.  At  fourteen  she  had  admired  a  man 
of  the  world;  at  sixteen  a  wit;  but  at  eighteen  her  taste 
was  formed,  and  she  never  afterwards  wavered  from 
her  preference  for  a  philosopher. 

Commerce  Manon  would  have  none  of;  "it  was 
incompatible  with  delicate  sentiments  and  elevated 
ideas."  The  rich  jeweller  or  cloth-dealer  was  as 
small-minded  as  the  petty  mercer.  In  greed  and  ruse 
and  obsequiousness  one  equalled  the  other.  M. 
Phlipon  was  pained  to  hear  such  opinions;  he  had 
mildly  approved  his  daughter's  prompt  rejection  of 
small  or  poor  tradesmen,  but  a  master  jeweller  with  a 
fine  shop  and  aristocratic  customers— pray  what  would 
suit  her .?  "Only  a  man  to  whom  I  can  communicate 
my  thoughts,  and  who  shares  my  feelings,"  replied 
the  idealist.  **  And  such  a  man  is  not  to  be  found  among 
merchants  .?"  queried  the  disappointed  parent. 

Tenez,  Papa:  I  have  observed  too  often  that  suc- 
cess in  trade  depends  on  selling  dear  what  one  has 
bought  cheap,  by  a  good  deal  of  lying,  and  oppression 
of  the  poor  working  man.  Never  could  I  countenance 
such  practices,  and  never  could  I  respect  the  man  who 
from  morning  until  night  devotes  his  time  to  them. 
I  wish  to  be  a  good  wife,  and  how  could  I  be  faithful 
to  a  man  who  had  no  place  in  my  esteem,  even  ad- 
mitting the  possibility  of  my  marrying  such  a  one .? 
To  me  it  seems  that  selling  diamonds  and  selling  pastry 


82  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

are  very  much  the  same  thing,  except  that  the  latter 
has  a  fixed  price,  requires  less  deceit,  but  soils  the  hands 
more.    I  do  not  like  one  better  than  the  other." 

"Do  you  believe  then  that  there  are  no  honest  people 
in  trade  ?" 

"I  will  not  say  that  absolutely,  but  I  am  persuaded 
that  there  are  hardl}^  any;  and  let  them  be  ever  so 
honest,  they  have  not  what  I  require  in  a  husband." 

"You  are  difficult  to  please.  Supposing  you  do  not 
find  your  ideal .?" 

"Then  I  will  die  an  old  maid." 

"That  may  be  a  harder  fate  than  you  imagine.  Be- 
sides, you  will  have  time  enough  to  think  it  over.  But 
remember,  ennui  will  come  some  day,  the  crowd  will 
have  gone,  and  you  know  the  fable." 

"Oh,  I  will  revenge  myself  on  the  injustice  that 
denies  me  happiness  by  taking  pains  to  deserve  it." 

"Ah  !  there  you  are  in  the  clouds.  It  may  be  pleasant 
to  soar  to  such  heights  but  difficult,  I  fear,  to  remain 
there.  Remember,  too,  that  I  should  like  to  have 
grandchildren  before  I  am  too  old." 

Poor  M.  PhHpon !  He  was  puzzled  and  annoyed. 
Here  then  was  the  sad  result  of  too  much  reading 
and  reflection.  Plutarch  was  an  evil  counsellor  for 
a  fille  a  marier,  and  a  course  of  ethical  philosophy 
was  but  a  poor  preparation  for  practical  life.  The 
engraver,  in  spite  of  his  opposition,  was  a  singularly 
indulgent  father,  he  never  attempted  to  use  his  author- 
ity in  forcing  a  favorable  decision,  and  Manon  was 
allowed  to  write  refusal  after  refusal.  M.  Phlipon 
at  first  derived  an  attenuated  pleasure  from  copying 
and  signing  these  elegant  compositions,  but  as  time 


FIRST  SUITORS  83 

went  on  and  his  daughter  continued  to  read,  make 
music,  and  write  to  Sophie,  with  apparently  no  thought 
of  the  morrow  of  ceHbacy,  his  patience  wore  thin. 
Even  Mama  PhHpon,  who  had  with  a  tact  and  for- 
bearance truly  exceptional  in  a  managing  French 
mother,  refrained  from  giving  advice  or  reproof,  was 
impelled  to  remonstrate  with  her  exacting  daughter. 
Her  own  health  had  been  failing  for  some  time,  her 
husband  had  become  less  industrious,  more  fond  of 
pleasure  in  growing  older,  and  she  was  doubly  desirous 
of  seeing  her  only  child  happy  in  a  home  of  her  own. 
Manon's  childish  reverence  for  her  mother  had  deep- 
ened with  time.  She  saw  that  the  harmony  of  the 
little  household,  the  peace  that  may  survive  happiness, 
which  had  enveloped  her  own  young  life  like  a  balmy 
atmosphere,  was  entirely  owing  to  her  mother.  The 
girl  noticed,  too,  with  a  weight  at  her  heart,  her  father's 
frequent  absences  from  home,  his  diminishing  custom, 
his  neglect  of  his  workmen,  and  the  falling  off  of  his 
own  work.  She  could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  while 
his  eye  and  hand  lost  their  sureness  and  steadiness,  his 
irritability  and  dictatorial  humor  increased.  The  se- 
ductions of  the  tavern  and  the  lottery  were  naturally 
more  powerful  than  the  sober  charm  of  an  evening  at 
home  with  madame  reading  Delolme's  English  His- 
tory aloud,  while  Manon  knotted  fringe  or  mended 
napkins.  A  family  party  of  old  relatives  playing  pi- 
quet for  gros  sous  naturally  seemed  insipid  to  a  man 
familiar  with  the  fiercer  delights  of  a  gaming-table. 
Madame  Phlipon's  gentle  remonstrances  were  laughed 
at,  or  met  with  real  or  assumed  anger.  When  she  failed 
to  change  her  husband's  actions  or  opinions,  she  ap- 


84  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

peared  to  abandon  her  own  views  and  silently  con- 
sumed her  worries  and  forebodings.  M.  Phlipon  still 
loved  his  wife  and  daughter  tenderly,  but  he  loved 
other  things  also,  things  which  they  could  not  appre- 
ciate, which,  indeed,  he  would  have  been  much  cha- 
grined to  have  them  appreciate.  Yet  the  narrowness 
of  their  comprehension  rasped  him,  and  a  sense  of 
their  blind  injustice  in  desiring  to  deprive  him  of  what 
they  could  not  enjoy  kept  him  in  a  continual  state  of 
smothered  exasperation.  Manon  was  more  aggres- 
sively irritating  than  his  self-effacing  wife.  She  had 
constituted  herself  her  mother's  watch-dog,  and  would 
not  suffer  her  to  be  teased  or  worried.  She  also  often 
interfered  with  her  father's  plans  for  private  recrea- 
tion by  proposing  walks  and  excursions  with  him 
which  were  difficult  to  avoid.  Even  when  he  man- 
aged by  shortening  the  promenade  or  the  visit  to  es- 
cape, his  own  diversions  were  naturally  curtailed. 
Sometimes  when  after  saying  before  supper  that  he 
would  run  out  for  a  moment  only,  he  returned  home 
very  late,  he  found  his  womankind  sitting  up  for  him, 
red-eyed  and  anxious.  Occasionally  Manon  was  in- 
considerate enough  to  mention  how  distressed  they  had 
been  by  his  absence,  and  did  not  consider  a  pleasantry, 
or  a  sulky  and  silent  retreat,  an  adequate  apology  or 
explanation. 

When  left  alone  again,  the  women  would  weep  to- 
gether, but  they  never  discussed  his  faults.  "For  her 
sake,"  wrote  Madame  Roland  of  her  mother,  "I  would 
combat  even  her  husband,  but  afterwards  this  hus- 
band became  my  father,  of  whom  neither  of  us  ever 
spoke  but  in  praise."     No  outsider  would  have  seen 


FIRST  SUITORS  85 

that  happiness,  that  shyest  and  fleetest  of  mortal  visi- 
tants, had  flown  from  the  Httle  household,  but  every 
outsider  of  the  PhHpons'  practical-minded  social  circle 
would  have  sympathized  with  madame's  desire  to  see 
her  daughter  settled  in  life. 

One  day  she,  with  unusual  earnestness,  pressed  the 
suit  of  a  young  jeweller,  who  was  the  latest  aspirant. 
To  a  list  of  his  moral  qualities  and  his  worldly  pos- 
sessions she  added:  "He  is  acquainted  with  your  sin- 
gular way  of  thinking,  professes  great  esteem  for  you, 
will  be  proud  to  follow  your  advice,  and  has  already 
said  that  he  has  no  objection  to  his  wife  becoming 
the  nurse  of  his  children.    You  will  rule  him." 

"But,  mama,  I  don't  want  a  man  that  I  can  rule. 
He  would  be  like  a  grown-up  child." 

"You  are  certainly  an  odd  girl,  for  you  don't  want 
a  master  either." 

"Let  us  understand  each  other,  dear  mama.  I 
would  not  at  all  wish  a  man  to  dictate  to  me,  for  he 
would  only  teach  me  to  resist,  nor  should  I  wish  to 
order  my  husband  about.  If  I  am  not  much  mistaken, 
these  tall,  bearded  creatures  seldom  fail  to  feel  that 
they  are  the  stronger  sex.  Now  the  good  man  who 
should  think  proper  to  remind  me  of  this  superiority 
would  provoke  me;  and  I  should  blush  for  him,  on 
the  contrary,  if  he  allowed  me  to  rule." 

"I  understand.  You  prefer  to  rule  a  man  who  while 
he  believes  he  is  having  his  own  way  is  obeying  you," 
retorted  mama,  making  a  fairly  successful  eff'ort  to 
define  the  black  swan  of  her  daughter's  theories. 

"Not  exactly  that.  I  hate  servitude,  but  I  am  not 
made  to  rule;  it  would  be  a  burden  to  me.    My  reason 


86  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

finds  enough  to  do  in  governing  myself.  I  would  win 
the  tenderness  of  some  one  worthy  of  my  esteem;  one 
whom  I  could  honor  myself  by  obeying;  who,  guided 
by  reason  and  affection,  would  find  his  own  happiness 
in  promoting  mine." 

"Happiness,  my  child,  is  not  always  the  result  of 
the  perfect  congeniality  that  you  imagine.  ...  A 
good  and  worthy  man  offers  you  his  hand;  you  are 
over  twenty,  and  can  no  longer  expect  as  many  lovers 
as  you  have  had  in  the  last  five  years.  .  .  .  Do  not 
reject  a  husband  who  has  not,  it  is  true,  the  delicacy 
to  which  you  affix  such  value  (a  very  rare  quality  even 
among  those  who  pretend  to  it),  but  who  will  love  you 
tenderly,  and  with  whom  you  may  be  happy." 

"Yes,  dear  mama,"  Manon  exclaimed  with  a  deep 
sigh,  "happy  as  you  are." 

Madame  Phlipon  started,  grew  silent,  and  never 
again  pleaded  for  a  mariage  de  raison. 

Manon  enjoyed  unusual  liberty  in  her  choice  of  a 
husband,  but  in  general  the  young  girl  of  the  petite 
bourgeoisie  was  allowed  to  consult  her  own  inclinations 
far  more  freely  than  was  the  noble  demoiselle.  It  was 
an  arduous  life,  dignified  by  labor,  sobered  by  respon- 
sibility, that  the  bourgeoise  faced  in  marriage,  which 
to  her  was  a  compact  instead  of  an  emancipation.  It 
bestowed  few  rights  and  many  duties.  It  closed  the 
door  upon  social  pleasures,  instead  of  opening  it  wide. 
In  the  married  life  of  the  Third  Estate  the  husband 
was  to  be  reckoned  with.  He  had  not  abdicated  his 
authority  as  had  the  patrician,  and  left  the  command 
of  the  household  to  his  wife.  He  still  occupied  the 
dominant  position  of  the  primitive  male.    He  disposed 


FIRST  SUITORS  87 

not  only  of  his  wife's  happiness  but  of  her  money  as 
well.  She  had  not  a  possession  or  a  pleasure  of  which 
he  might  not  deprive  her.  Not  only  her  welfare  but 
that  of  her  children  was  in  his  hands.  Hence  the  im- 
portance of  wisely  choosing  such  an  absolute  monarch. 
Husband  and  wife  lived  very  closely  together  in  the 
bourgeoisie,  and  marriage  was  without  mitigating  cir- 
cumstances. It  lacked  the  larger  means,  the  ampler 
quarters,  and  the  individual  hberty  that  padded  the 
conjugal  yoke  of  the  higher  classes.  It  was  not  an 
association  of  two  fortunes  and  two  indifferences,  but 
an  indissoluble  union  of  interests,  if  not  of  affections. 
Much  was  required  of  the  wife.  To  her,  duty  was 
something  more  than  a  word.  In  an  age  of  brilliant, 
phosphorescent  corruption,  of  witty  mockery  of  all 
things,  the  fireside  of  the  Third  Estate  was  the  sanc- 
tuary of  the  household  virtues  and  the  domestic  pieties, 
and  the  priestess  of  that  hearth-fire  was  the  bourgeoise. 
Habituated  to  self-sacrifice,  and  inured  to  labor,  she 
looked  at  life  with  a  certain  austerity.  The  right  to 
happiness  that  her  contemporaries  believed  in,  and 
preached  so  ardently,  she  did  not  quite  accept,  and 
substituted  for  it  the  right  to  make  others  happy. 
She  possessed  the  dignity  of  one  who  asks  little,  who 
renounces  without  complaint — a  dignity  equal  to  the 
unconscious  majesty  of  the  noble  lady  to  whom  all 
was  accorded.  Without  the  character  and  virtues  of 
the  bourgeoisie,  the  Revolution  would  have  been  but 
a  revolt.  From  these  quiet  homes  issued  the  soldiers 
of  the  Republic.  By  the  daily  abnegations  of  these 
modest  households  the  servants  of  the  new  state  had 
been  trained   in   habits   of  self-command,  of  industry 


88  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

and  frugality.  From  these  obscure  treasures  of  moral 
energy  immense  reserves  of  fortitude  and  tenacity 
were  drawn  for  the  service  of  the  fatherland.  It  was 
the  moral  vigor  and  the  homely  virtues  of  the  bour- 
geoisie that  preserved  France  during  the  convulsions 
of  the  Terror,  and  upheld  the  national  honor  when 
the  artificial  structure  of  her  brilliant  and  superficial 
society  crumbled  away. 

A  keen  sense  of  these  responsibilities  was  naturally 
felt  by  a  stern  young  moralist  like  Manon,  who  in 
her  mother  had  always  before  her  a  very  model  of 
wifely  conduct.  Not  that  Madame  Phlipon  was  a 
Patient  Griselda.  Indeed,  no  Frenchwoman,  that  es- 
sentially sensible  and  reasonable  being,  could  ever 
attain  such  a  heroic  height  of  insensibility  as  that 
Italian  paragon  of  wives,  who  allowed  her  children 
to  be  carried  off  to  be  murdered  without  an  expostula- 
tion. Long-suffering  and  high-minded  as  was  her 
mother,  Manon  soon  perceived  that  the  moral  in- 
equality between  her  parents  made  for  unhappiness, 
and,  resolute  to  escape  shipwreck  on  that  particular 
rock,  continued  to  refuse  mediocrity  even  when  it 
was  golden. 

'*Mere  force  of  intellect  was  not  a  sufficient  quali- 
fication in  a  husband  unless  there  were  also  superiority 
of  judgment  and  those  indefinable  but  palpable  quali- 
ties of  soul  the  lack  of  which  nothing  can  supply." 
A  philosopher,  who  was  also  a  man  of  sentiment  and 
a  scholar,  remained  Manon's  ideal — no  matter  how 
aged  and  damaged,  how  harsh-featured  or  ill-favored  he 
might  be.  The  beauties  of  mind,  the  charms  of  char- 
acter alone,  were  sought  by  this  young  enthusiast. 


MARIK  MARGLKKHK  BIMONT— MOTHF.R  OF  MADAMK   lU;LANiJ 
Pastel  b\   Latour,  in  t!ie  Museum  of  Lyons 


FIRST  SUITORS  89 

She  would  have  considered  Romeo  a  love-sick  boy, 
Lovelace  a  stereotyped  lady-killer,  as  tiresome  as  he 
was  impudent,  and  the  Chevalier  Faublas  she  would 
have  laughed  at — before  she  boxed  his  ears.  The  man 
of  her  heart,  or,  more  truly,  of  her  fancy,  was  a  less  re- 
signed Marcus  Aurelius,  or  a  more  energetic  Vicar  of 
Wakefield.  To  her  notion,  even  when  she  had  ceased, 
as  a  good  Cartesian,  to  deify  the  intellect,  a  lover,  like 
a  man,  to  be  worthy  of  his  name,  should  think.  Think- 
ing, the  act  of  it  (one  not  so  easy  to  perform,  by  the 
way)  alone  opened  the  portals  of  the  mind  to  divine 
messengers,  to  truth  and  justice.  From  straight  think- 
ing sprang  righteous  action  (Manon  did  not  take 
antinomianism  into  account);  impartiality,  considera- 
tion for  the  rights  of  others,  respect  for  their  opinions 
through  comprehension  of  differing  standards  and 
points  of  view — in  fine,  a  mental  attitude,  "avec  laquelle 
une  femme  qui  pense  pouvait  vivre^ 

Alas !  in  an  age  of  such  general  diffusion  of  intel- 
ligence, why  was  there,  in  the  Phlipons'  social  circle 
at  least,  such  a  dearth  of  philosophers — under  sixty 
and  unappropriated  ?  Were  the  fruits  of  wisdom 
ripened  solely  by  a  declining  sun  ?  Or  gathered  only 
in  the  shadow  of  oncoming  night  ? 

**When  miracles  are  expected,  they  happen,"  said 
a  devout  friend  of  mine,  lamenting  the  sterilizing  effect 
of  general  scepticism.  Manon  searching  with  her 
little  lantern  of  enthusiasm  for  a  philosopher  was  fated 
to  find  one.  Intellect  is  inimical  to  beauty,  as  it  de- 
stroys that  balance  in  the  distribution  of  vital  force 
that  makes  for  comeliness;  naturally  enough,  Manon's 
sage  was  small,  plain,  and  insignificant.    The  lady  of 


90  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

Toboso  was  but  an  uncouth  country  wench  to  eyea 
untouched  by  the  fire  divine.  Madame  Roland's  un- 
attractive portrait  of  Pahin  de  la  Blancherie,  drawn 
years  afterwards,  is  very  different  from  the  contem- 
porary sketches  from  life  that  she  sent  to  Sophie.  Her 
imagination  was  kindled  by  the  apparent  delicacy 
and  respectful  regard  of  an  ambitious  young  man  of 
letters,  with  whom  she  had  so  much  more  in  common 
than  with  the  goldsmith  of  the  Pont  Neuf  or  the  rich 
silk  merchant.  Manon  met  D.  L.  B.,  as  she  calls  him 
in  her  letters  to  her  confidante,  at  Madame  L'Epine's 
concerts.  He  had  already  prepared  himself  for  the 
bar,  travelled  in  America,  and  written  a  book;  he 
had  studied  the  philosophers,  knew  his  Rousseau  by 
heart,  and  wrote  verses.  This  was  enough,  and  more 
than  enough,  to  attract  Manon,  and  she  tells  Sophie 
of  her  father's  rejection  of  D.  L.  B.'s  suit,  which  soon 
followed,  with  a  touch  of  real  though  resigned  regret. 
"He  seemed  to  me  to  have  a  good  heart,  much  love 
for  literature  and  science,  art  and  knowledge.  In  fact, 
if  he  had  an  established  position,  were  older,  possessed 
a  cooler  head,  a  little  more  solidity,  he  would  not  have 
displeased  me.  Now  he  has  gone  and  doubtless  thinks 
as  little  of  me  as  I  do  about  him." 

It  was  La  Blancherie's  lack  of  an  established  posi- 
tion that  obliged  M.  Phlipon  to  decline  his  offer  rather 
reluctantly.  "I  wish  he  were  less  of  a  gentleman,  and 
had  an  income  of  a  few  more  thousand  crowns,"  papa 
admitted  to  his  daughter.  "Let  him  buy  a  place  in 
the  magistracy  or  open  a  law  office  first,  and  then  think 
about  marriage."  Manon  did  not  find  D.  L.  B.  less 
interesting  because  he  had  been  attracted  by  her,  and 


FIRST  SUITORS  91 

had  privately  decided  to  "study"  him  more  closely, 
when  he  was  called  away  to  Orleans,  and  remained 
there  for  two  years. 

On  his  return  (October  31,  1775)  he  found  Manon 
lonely,  troubled,  and  depressed.  Her  mother  had 
died  in  June,  and  her  father's  idleness  and  dissipation 
had  increased  since  she  had  last  seen  "the  man  of  Or- 
leans," as  she  called  La  Blancherie  in  her  letters.  She 
was  alone  when  he  reappeared,  pale  and  worn,  appar- 
ently by  care  and  anxiety.  His  cordial  greeting,  his 
undisguised  joy  at  seeing  her  again,  and  his  quick  sym- 
pathy touched  the  bereaved  girl's  heart.  At  first  their 
conversation  was  "of  few  words  and  many  sighs"; 
later  D.  L.  B.  asked  for  the  details  of  her  mother's  ill- 
ness and  death,  and  Manon  derived  a  pensive  pleasure 
from  living  her  sorrows  over  again  with  a  friend  who 
mourned  with  her.  A  little  rainbow  must  have  shone 
in  the  midst  of  their  tears  when  she  confided  to  him 
that  she  had  spoken  of  him  with  her  mother  on  their 
last  day  together  under  the  honeysuckles  at  Meudon. 
At  this  moment  M.  Phlipon  with  a  friend  broke  in 
upon  the  tete-a-tete.  D.  L.  B.,  still  weeping,  fell  upon 
his  neck,  and  there  followed  a  moment  of  general  at- 
tendrissement  that  Greuze  might  have  painted  or  Rous- 
seau described. 

When  they  had  dried  their  tears,  D.  L.  B.  adroitly 
profited  by  an  instant  when  the  elders  were  occupied 
to  confess  that  he  too  had  lost  his  mother,  though  not 
by  death,  through  diflf'erences  of  opinion,  and  that  his 
book  was  published.  Indeed,  he  left  the  corrected 
proofs  of  it  for  her  to  read  later  in  secret  and  in  haste, 
for    the   Orleans    printer   was    importunate.      Manon 


92  MANON   PHLIPON  ROLAND 

discovered  in  this  work  her  own  principles,  her  whole 
soul.  "I  do  not  dare  to  judge  this  young  man;  he  re- 
sembles me  too  closely.  I  can  only  say  of  him  what 
I  said  to  M.  Greuze  about  his  picture:  'If  I  did  not  love 
virtue  already,  this  would  give  me  the  taste  for  it.'  " 
"Oh,  Rousseau,  Rousseau,  it  was  all  thy  fault!'* 
Manon  had  been  rereading  La  Nouvelle  Heloise;  her 
fancy  was  fired  by  its  glowing  pictures  of  mutual  love 
and  sacrifice;  unconsciously  she  was  looking  for  a  Saint- 
Prieux  as  well  as  a  philosopher,  and  D.  L.  B.,  with  his 
literary  taste  and  knowledge,  and  his  evident  admira- 
tion of  and  sympathy  with  her,  filled  the  role  fairly 
well.  The  man  who  sorrows  with  a  woman  is  far  more 
dangerous  than  he  who  laughs  with  her.  Manon  was 
evidently  disposed  to  play  Julie,  but  a  Julie  who  was 
strong  and  pure.  She  who  had  avoided  reading  tragedy 
because  its  fictitious  woes  affected  her  too  deeply,  and 
disturbed  the  philosophic  calm  she  sought,  who  had 
found  in  the  study  of  geometry  and  physics  fetters  for 
a  roving  fancy  which  strained  towards  the  blue  coun- 
try of  romance  and  sentiment,  she  at  last  let  herself 
go — on  paper,  and  to  Sophie.  *'Never  was  such 
prompt  disemburdening."  She  was  so  proud  of  her 
emotions,  so  convinced  of  their  purity  and  elevation, 
that  she  delighted  in  indulging  and  describing  them, 
and  she  unhesitatingly  ascribes  to  D.  L.  B.  all  her  own 
delicacy  and  disinterestedness.  Crystallization  had 
been  almost  instantaneous;  crystallization,  as  Sten- 
dhal called  it,  and  no  one  has  invented  a  happier  term 
for  that  mysterious  operation  by  which  the  imagina- 
tion, stimulated  by  love,  transforms  the  ordinary  mor- 
tal into  a  hero  or  a  genius  as  the  dead  bough  dropped 


FIRST  SUITORS  93 

into  the  alum-mines  at  Salzburg  is  changed  to  a  fairy- 
wand  of  brilliants. 

Meanwhile  La  Blancherie,  who  though  not  a 
withered  branch  was  a  forced  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowl- 
edge, called  again  and  again,  bringing  books  to  lend 
Manon.  Papa  Phlipon,  who  was  not  deceived  by  this 
innocent  and  venerable  subterfuge,  finally  returned 
the  last  loan  himself,  dryly  remarking  that  his  daughter 
already  had  books  enough  to  occupy  and  amuse  her. 
D.  L.  B.,  however,  only  appeared  flattered  by  this 
visit,  and  soon  returned  it.  Papa,  whose  sole  idea  of 
his  duty  to  his  child  was  to  mount  guard  over  her, 
again  stated  his  objections  to  Pahin's  assiduity,  and 
his  intention  to  ask  him  to  discontinue  his  calls,  Manon 
assenting  with  apparent  docility  and  inward  despair. 
Mignonne,  the  lively  little  maid,  who  adored  her  mis- 
tress, and  consequently  loved  every  one  who  admired 
her,  suggested  in  true  soubrette  fashion  that  she  should 
soften  the  blow  to  D.  L.  B. 

"When  I  see  him  out,  mademoiselle,  I  will  warn 
him  to  come  less  often."  Mademoiselle  was  but  too 
pleased  with  this  gentle  envoy.  But  unfortunately 
it  is  only  in  comedies  that  the  maid  can  quite  success- 
fully double  the  mistress's  role.  Mignonne  bungled 
her  message  and  told  D.  L.  B.  that  it  was  mademoiselle 
herself  who  begged  him  to  cease  visiting  her.  At  which 
D.  L.  B.,  "pale  as  death,"  promised  to  respect  her 
wishes.  Of  course  Manon  had  counted  on  Mignonne's 
giving  this  advice  as  coming  from  herself  (Mignonne) 
spontaneously.  Alas,  for  the  indirect  method  !  Manon 
went  supperless  to  her  room  and  poured  out  her  lamen- 
tations to  the  receptive  Sophie  (November  18,  1775). 


94  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

**My  dear,  you  cannot  imagine  how  much  I  have  suf- 
fered since  this  accursed  instant.  What  will  he  think 
of  me  ?  It  is  despairing  to  think  of!  How  far  beneath 
the  rectitude  we  both  profess  and  the  delicacy  which 
has  won  his  esteem  is  this  act  of  mine,  having  him 
spoken  to  secretly  by  a  servant !  But  he  will  see  the 
motive  that  made  me  act;  this  motive  will  serve  as 
my  excuse.  He  will  understand  that  my  love  tried 
to  preserve  for  him  the  right  to  continue  to  come  here 
by  warning  him  to  come  seldom.  .  .  .  Perhaps  he 
will  think  that  I  am  playing  with  him — but  no,  I  am 
too  well  known  to  him  for  him  to  be  so  atrociously 
unjust  to  me;  his  heart  answers  to  him  for  mine.  Mean- 
time I  have  sent  him  away.  .  .  .  He  knows  that  my 
father  does  not  look  kindly  upon  him,  and  it  is  through 
me  that  he  learns  it.  He  will  come  back  perhaps,  but 
trembHng  and  disconcerted,  instead  of  which  he  en- 
joyed such  a  sweet  confidence.  This  confidence  was 
noble,  it  was  founded  on  the  purity  of  our  sentiments. 
Never  have  we  said  that  we  loved  each  other,  but  our 
eyes  have  told  each  other  so  a  thousand  times  in  the 
presence  of  my  father,  in  that  expressive  language 
which  we  deny  ourselves  when  we  are  alone.  Per- 
haps the  warning  he  has  received  has  dangerously 
affected  his  health;  he  had  begun  to  improve  since 
his  return  to  Paris.  ...  I  am  wounding  a  heart  whose 
happiness  I  would  buy  at  the  price  of  my  own.  If 
my  imprudent  step  cures  him  of  his  love  I  shall  only 
have  to  weep  for  myself;  he  will  be  tranquil.  .  .  . 
Was  I  not  forced  to  warn  him  ?  My  father  would 
have  soon  obliged  him  to  discontinue  his  visits  by  his 
manner  of  receiving  them.     Such   an  order  coming 


FIRST  SUITORS  95 

from  any  one  but  myself  would  have  been  too  painful 
for  him.  Seeing  him  only  occasionally  my  father  will 
see  him  willingly;  he  is  really  fond  of  him  after  all. 
.  .  .  He  lacks  only  a  fortune.  O,  Heavens !  How 
I  suffer.  Why  should  I  fear  to  let  my  father  suspect 
the  existence  of  a  sentiment  that  I  confess  without 
blushing  to  God."  Manon  desires  to  write  to  D.  L.  B. 
to  explain  the  hard  necessity  she  is  under,  to  let  him 
know  that  it  is  her  father,  not  herself,  who  finds  his 
visits  importunate.  "A  thousand  times  I  was  ready 
to  take  my  pen,  a  thousand  times  I  hesitated.  I  was 
not  restrained  by  the  fear  that  prudence  suggests  under 
such  circumstances;  I  have  confidence  in  him,  a  con- 
fidence which  I  believe  his  principles  justify,  and  I  am 
proud  of  his  virtues,  but  /  respected  my  image  in  his 
heart.  I  feared  to  take  from  it  something  of  its  noble 
beauty.  My  first  step  can  be  in  some  sense  reconciled 
with  my  duty,  since  it  sends  D.  L.  B.  away  from  me, 
but  he  might  disapprove  of  my  action  in  writing  to 
him.  ...  I  count  on  time,  on  time  that  devours  all 
things;  it  alone  can  perhaps  restore  to  me  the  calm- 
ness that  I  have  lost.  .  .  .  Adieu,  then,  my  friend,  my 
refuge  and  my  stay,  adieu." 

It  is  only  in  the  springtime  of  life  that  one  is  happy 
enough  to  be  so  unhappy.  Three  weeks  later  Manon 
writes  (December  5,  1775):  "The  violent  emotion 
that  I  described  to  you  has  gradually  calmed  down; 
this  benefit  is  the  result  of  the  step  that  caused  it.  I 
have  gathered  the  fruit  of  that  cruel  order  that  made 
me  shed  so  many  tears.  But  if  tranquillity  has  re- 
turned to  me,  my  love  has  not  left  me,  only  this  senti- 
ment has  become  so  naturalized  in  my  heart  that  it 


96  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

causes  no  more  trouble  there  than  does  fihal  love;  it 
is  a  deep  river  that  has  hollowed  out  its  bed  and  flows 
silently.  I  am  happy  and  I  love;  I  unite  these  two 
opposed  feelings  with  an  ease  which  I  could  not  imagine 
myself  possessing.  Submitting  to  the  laws  of  a  neces- 
sity which  parts  us,  I  find  that  it  does  not  separate  us, 
and  that  is  enough.  'He  loves  me,'  I  say  to  myself, 
*he  is  working  to  deserve  me/  We  seek  reciprocally 
to  please  each  other  by  becoming  better,  and  in  this 
sweet  emulation  our  virtues  thrive  and  hope  remains 
with  us.  If  he  finds  a  good  act  to  perform,  I  am  sure 
that  he  brings  to  the  doing  of  it  more  ardor  in  think- 
ing that  it  is  the  sweetest  and  the  only  homage  he  can 
offer  me.  On  my  side  I  find  my  being  doubled.  If 
it  becomes  necessary  to  make  any  sacrifices  of  any 
kind,  I  shall  have  more  strength  than  ever.  I  am  more 
severe  to  myself  and  I  should  forgive  myself  less  easily 
for  the  slightest  weakness;  it  seems  as  though  there 
would  be  another  witness  to  it,  and  added  reproaches 
for  it.  I  am  no  longer  anxious,  nor  agitated,  as  you 
feared  I  would  be;  inquietude  and  remorse  are  strangers 
to  me.  I  enjoy  the  advantage  of  a  coeur  fixe.  I  am 
more  gay  and  more  free  in  society.  I  seek  nothing 
there.  I  know  that  after  the  first  shock  D.  L.  B.  is 
himself  again  and  certainly  acts  as  I  do.  I  judge  him 
by  my  heart;  nothing  resembles  him  more.  We  do 
not  see  each  other,  but  we  know  that  we  love  each 
other  without  ever  having  told  each  other  so." 

Meanwhile  the  evicted  lover  had  given  no  sign. 
He  was  evidently  pursuing  his  career  of  virtue  and 
self-sacrifice  in  silence.  Manon  took  a  good  deal  for 
granted;  the  crystals  were  forming  fast  on  the  bough. 


FIRST  SUITORS  97 

Foolish  M.  Phlipon !  Would  you  teach  a  generous 
and  imaginative  young  enthusiast  to  love,  separate 
her  from  the  man  she  fancies.  Seen  too  near,  he  would 
himself  often  disenchant  her.  The  mediocre  lover 
has  a  permanent  rival  in  the  ideal  which  every  high- 
minded  girl  carries  in  her  heart,  and  which  is  at  once 
a  touchstone  and  a  tahsman.  In  D.  L.  B.'s  case,  ab- 
sence, pity,  loneliness,  and  imagination,  which  in  Ma- 
non  always  masked  her  preferences  as  admirations, 
were  at  work,  transforming  an  able  but  rather  flighty 
young  opportunist  into  a  moral  hero,  and  a  lofty- 
souled  lover. 

But  Manon  was  not  only  imaginative  and  senti- 
mental, she  was  intelligent,  and  she  found  in  her  mind 
a  corrective  and  a  cure  for  the  warmth  of  her  imagina- 
tion and  her  lack  of  social  experience.  //  she  had 
not  been  in  an  unwonted  melting  mood  when  D.  L.  B. 
returned,  if  he  had  not  brought  with  him  the  tender 
souvenir  of  the  mother  who  had  known  and  liked  him, 
if  M.  Phlipon  had  not  frowned  upon  him,  and  if  she 
had  seen  him  more  often,  Manon's  coup  de  foudre 
would  have  been  but  a  slight  shock,  and  she  would 
have  missed  a  valuable  emotional  experience.  As  it 
was,  with  all  the  elements  of  a  romance,  the  cruel 
father,  the  complaisant  maid,  the  indigent,  unselfish, 
and  chivalrous  lover,  how  could  a  bereaved  and  lonely 
girl  resist  the  situation .?  She  lent  herself  to  it  with 
hearty  good-will;  she  took  D.  L.  B.  on  faith,  and  his 
virtues  for  granted,  as  trustingly  as  any  little  milliner 
in  her  quarter  would  have  done,  who  had  never  dis- 
ciplined her  mind  with  algebra,  or  skipped  the  love- 
scenes  in  tragedies. 


98  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

The  original  dry  stick  had  utterly  disappeared  under 
a  gleaming,  dazzling  mass  of  crystals.  She  made  little 
daily  mental  offerings  to  D.  L.  B.'s  enshrined  image, 
as  her  dear  Saint  Francis  de  Sales  had  recommended 
to  the  devout  lover  of  God.  She  gathered  spiritual 
nosegays  for  him  of  sweet  thoughts  and  aspirations. 
She  bade  Sophie  keep  her  letters,  so  that  one  day, 
perhaps  (oh,  transport!),  they  might  read  them  to- 
gether; Manon's  charmed  fancy  could  picture  no 
closer  intimacy  of  the  heart.  She  had  the  advantage 
of  organizing  and  presenting  and  managing  her  drama 
of  sentiment  quite  alone,  entirely  to  her  taste,  and 
of  speaking  both  parts  in  the  love-dialogue.  She  felt 
and  wrote  for  D.  L.  B.,  and  supplied  him  with  lofty 
aims  and  tender  thoughts.  The  real  D.  L.  B.  had 
obeyed  her  literally,  and  was  making  his  visits  rare, 
indeed;  so  Manon  had  a  freer  stage  for  manoeuvring  her 
own  D.  L.  B. — a  kind  of  Grandison-Cato,  brain-born, 
and  fancy-nourished,  undisturbed  by  the  claims  and 
contradictions  of  an  insistent,  human,  masculine  per- 
sonality, which  would  have  fitted  very  ill  into  the  heroic 
part  provided  for  him. 

There  were  times,  however,  when  her  affection  waned 
a  little  even  for  this  segment  of  perfection.  Always 
frank  to  excess,  she  confesses  as  much  to  Sophie. 
*'When  I  am  fairly  busy  with  science  or  study,  good- 
by  to  love;  my  cheerfulness,  my  strength,  my  ac- 
tivity return  to  me,  but  a  little  letting  myself  go — if 
a  certain  visit — my  heart  goes  pitapat,  and  my  im- 
agination torments  me.  When  I  am  on  philosophical 
heights,  I  find  D,  L.  B.  rather  small,  but  turn  the 
glass  the  other  way,  and  I  am  mad  again."     Still  she 


FIRST  SUITORS  99 

had  intervals  of  lucidity  in  which  to  read  the  Abbe 
Raynal  and  to  write  long  extracts  from  an  excellent 
compte  rendu  of  his  Histoire  Philosophique  (the  livre 
de  chevet  of  Charlotte  Corday),  in  which  she  notes  "  Ce 
livre  est  propre  a  hater  la  revolution  qui  s^opere  dafis 
les  esprits"  (a  good  prophecy  before  the  event),  to 
give  a  little  dinner  and  to  make  verses  with  Le  Sage. 
Then  after  nearly  a  month  D.  L.  B.  reappeared,  and 
adieu  raison — vive  la  folie!  D.  L.  B.  was  pale, 
thinner,  more  wan  than  before — he  could  not  sleep, 
could  not  regain  his  health.  Anxiety,  grief,  and  emo- 
tion were  wearing  on  him;  he  was  sadly  changed,  and 
Manon's  tumultuous  heart  told  her  why.  For  before 
he  received  that  fatal  order  from  stupid  Mignonne,  he 
was  improving — was  almost  himself  again,  and  now 
he  might  be  going  to  die.  What  could  be  done  ? 
Tiresome  Cousin  Trude  was  calling  at  the  same  time, 
and  a  comforting  word  in  private  to  D.  L.  B.  was 
out  of  the  question.  The  formal  visit  was  soon  in- 
terrupted by  the  return  of  M.  Phhpon.  D.  L.  B. 
rose,  saluted  him,  and  took  leave,  broken-hearted. 
Only  Manon  understood  the  cause  of  his  sadness,  and 
she  was  obliged  to  appear  gay.  "He  does  not  know 
what  he  makes  me  feel,"  she  wails  to  Sophie  this 
same  afternoon;  ''my  apparent  serenity  doubles  his 
tortures.  ...  A  single  word  from  my  lips  can  call 
him  back  to  life,  to  health.  I  believe  it,  I  feel  it, 
and  why  should  I  not  speak  ?  He  keeps  silence,  and 
in  doing  so  only  interests  me  the  more,  because  in 
acting  thus  he  shows  himself  true  to  his  principles, 
and  ever  worthy  of  my  esteem." 

Manon,  all  her  scruples  of  delicacy,  all  her  rigid 


loo  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

maiden  pride  swept  away  by  a  rising  flood  of  tender- 
ness, writes  to  D.  L.  B.  She  has  ceased  to  care  about 
any  possible  tarnishing  of  that  immensely  proper  image 
of  herself  in  his  breast,  and  is  possessed  by  one  in- 
tolerable conviction:  that  the  man  she  loves  is  suffer- 
ing, and  that  she  is  the  cause  of  his  pain;  a  conviction 
that  had  led  generous  natures  into  far  greater  folly 
than  Manon's  innocent  imprudence.  This  letter,  of 
which  no  copy  remains,  was  to  assure  D.  L.  B.  of  her 
eternal  friendship  and  unalterable  respect,  and  to 
explain  that  it  is  papa,  and  not  herself,  who  desires 
him  to  space  his  visits.  Sophie  is  besought  to  receive 
this  letter,  to  read  it,  judge  of  it,  and  if  she  considers 
it  convenahle,  to  send  it  to  La  Blancherie.  In  any  case 
she  is  not  to  burn  it.  He  will  see  it  later,  perhaps  !  "0, 
Sophie^  Sophie,  mon  amiel  saiis  toi  je  suis  perdue;  je 
suis  dans  la  crise  la  plus  violente;  dans  le  combat  le 
plus  cruel  avec  moi-meme;  je  n'ai  de  force  que  pour 
me  Jeter  dans  les  bras  de  Vamitie.  0,  Dieul  que  je 
souffref* 

The  arms  of  friendship  were  evidently  open,  the 
eyes  of  friendship  read  the  explanator}^  letter,  judged 
it  convenable,  and  the  hand  of  friendship  posted  it  to 
La  Blancherie.  Peace  once  more  folded  her  dove's 
wings  and  made  her  nest  in  Manon's  breast,  for  a  week 
later  (January  23,  1776)  she  writes  to  Sophie  that 
she  has  again  recovered  her  calmness,  and  though 
there  is  a  certain  greffier  de  bdtiments,  who  is  paying 
his  court  through  Sister  Sainte  Agathe,  she,  Manon, 
considers  herself  bound  to  D.  L.  B.;  her  reason  is  a 
pretty  bit  of  heart-casuistry:  ''Car  lorsquon  laisse 
voir  a  un  homme  quon  Vaime,  on  a  beau  lui  montrer 


FIRST  SUITORS  loi 

une  vertu  capable  de  dompter  le  sentiment,  il  se  repose 
toujours  sur  la  recommandation  secrete  du  coeur:  tout 
en  croyant  a  Vhero'isme  il  espere  en  la  nature.  Me  livrer 
a  un  autre  serait  done  trahir  un  espoir  que  j'aurais  donne 
moi-meme." 

This  conclusion  established,  Manon  is  placidly  happy 
in  spite  of  the  unwelcome  suit  of  not  only  the  greffier 
but  a  protege  of  Abbe  Legrand,  whose  quiet  persis- 
tency causes  some  anxiety.  She  is  occupied,  too,  in 
theological  discussions  with  Sophie,  discussions  en- 
tirely free  from  theological  rancor,  in  which  she  de- 
fines and  justifies  her  own  beliefs.  She  reads  Homer 
(in  translation,  of  course),  and  is  enchanted.  She 
throws  herself  **up  to  the  collar"  into  the  study  of 
the  antique  poets. 

Still  D.  L.  B,  is  always  in  the  foreground  of  her  views 
of  life  and  conduct.  She  sends  his  book  and  her  own 
criticism  of  it  to  Sophie,  and  his  presence  at  the  me- 
morial mass  for  her  mother  disturbs  her  tranquillity. 
D.  L.  B.  absent  is  a  source  of  strength  and  consolation, 
a  kind  of  tutelary  genius,  but  actually  seen  and  heard 
he  troubles  the  pure  fountain  of  her  fancy  and  dims 
the  noble  image  mirrored  there;  it  is  almost  obliterated 
when  one  day,  walking  with  Mademoiselle  Hangard 
in  the  Luxembourg  garden,  she  meets  him  with  a  feather 
in  his  hat!  He,  the  Spartan,  the  philosophical,  the 
lover  of  the  simple  life,  tricked  out  with  a  macaroni 
plume  like  a  frivolous  follower  of  Richelieu,  or  a  foppish 
imitator  of  De  Tilly !  Manon  cannot  reconcile  the 
presence  of  this  futile  ornament  with  her  idea  of  D. 
L.  B.,  and,  to  excuse  her  preoccupation  with  an  ap- 
parent trifle,  notes  how  the  smallest  details  acquire 


102  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

importance  when  they  pertain  to  a  beloved  object, 
and  appear  to  be  betrayals  of  character. 

While  she  was  tormented  with  her  first  doubts  of 
D.  L.  B.'s  impeccabiUty,  Mademoiselle  Hangard  gave 
another  turn  to  the  screw  by  remarking  that  La 
Blancherie  had  been  forbidden  a  friend's  house  be- 
cause he  boasted  that  he  was  about  to  marry  one  of 
the  daughters,  and  that  as  he  was  constantly  offering 
his  empty  hand  to  rich  young  ladies  he  was  known 
as  the  lover  of  the  eleven  thousand  virgins ! 

Was  there  ever  a  ruder  awakening  from  a  dream ! 
Manon  gasped,  blushed,  doubted,  and  then  began 
to  reason  over  her  infatuation.  Even  making  allow- 
ances for  prejudice  and  exaggeration,  D.  L.  B.  in  the 
light  of  these  discoveries,  instead  of  the  devoted  and 
disinterested  paragon  she  had  fancied  him,  seemed 
but  a  fortune-hunter  who  had  sought  her  because  she 
was  an  only  daughter,  and  presumably  the  heiress 
of  her  family.  And  she  had  admired  him,  believed  in 
him,  and  had  written  him  an  enthusiastic,  almost 
tender,  letter  that  was  an  indirect  avowal  of  affection  ! 
Manon,  when  her  first  burning  sense  of  maidenly  shame 
cooled,  tried  to  be  just  to  D.  L.  B.,  though  she  was 
more  vexed  with  him  than  with  herself,  which  was 
hardly  fair.  She  admitted  that  she  had  considered 
him  more  estimable  than  he  really  was,  that  a  pre- 
conceived idea  confuses  one's  impressions  of  realities, 
and  that  he  may  have  owed  most  of  his  good  qualities 
to  her  idealization  of  him;  in  a  word,  she  began  to  strip 
the  crystals  off  the  bough.  It  is  always  a  sad  process, 
the  eviction  of  a  bankrupt  tenant  from  a  young  heart, 
and  for  several  days  Manon  was  really  ill.    Then  she 


FIRST  SUITORS  103 

sought  comfort  in  the  thought  that  she  would  belong 
only  to  some  one  who  really  was  what  she  had  believed 
La  Blancherie  to  be,  and  D.  L.  B.  would  always  pos- 
sess the  advantage  of  having  first  resembled  her  ideal, 
which  was  more  subtle  than  tender.  "I  hope  that  he 
will  prove  to  be  what  I  thought  he  was,  but  I  have  no 
longer  the  invincible  belief  that  was  so  sweet.  My 
reason  profits  by  the  suffering  of  my  heart,  and  the 
worship  of  Minerva  is  no  longer  interrupted  by  that 
of  loving  hope.  D.  L.  B.  has  become  matter  for  grave 
reflection  as  well  as  tender  sentiments."  (June  25, 
1776.)  Manon  took  her  bitter  drug  without  grimac- 
ing— at  least  in  public — and  the  bitterness  seems  to 
have  soon  been  modified  by  the  sweets  of  philosophy. 
**I  have  beaten  down  my  hopes.  I  have  used  to  cure 
the  wound  in  my  heart  all  the  means  that  a  healthy 
mind  can  furnish.  I  am  at  present  convalescing  hap- 
pily." "Oh  !  D.  L.  B.,"  she  writes,  after  telling  Sophie 
of  the  refusal  of  a  new  offer,  **it  is  not  to  thee  that  I 
devote  myself,  but  to  the  prototype,  to  the  model 
which  I  thought  thou  resembledst.  I  deceived  my- 
self, and  I  mourn  my  error  more  for  thee  than  for  my- 
self. /  still  possess  my  object,  but  thou  art  nothing." 
Then  she  adds,  with  that  irrepressible  frankness  that 
always  ballasts  her  flights  to  the  empyrean  of  senti- 
ment: "  J'ai  pourtant  bien  de  la  peine  a  le  croire."  Bien 
de  la  peine?  At  times,  perhaps;  for  it  is  difficult  to 
dislodge  an  illusion  even  when  pride  lends  a  hand  to 
the  process,  and  if  the  wound  in  her  heart  was  healing 
fast  her  self-love  was  still  bleeding,  and  slow  of  cure. 
Perhaps  Sophie  was  not  surprised  when  she  received 
an  agitated  letter  from  Manon  announcing  that  D. 


104  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

L.  B.  had  sought  and  obtained  an  interview  and  was 
coming  to  explain  himself! 

He  came  (December  21,  1776),  and  Manon's  in- 
ward perturbation  was  manifested  only  by  an  access 
of  dignity.  To  D.  L.  B.'s  protestations  of  gratitude 
for  this  favor  she  answered  coldly  that  she  had,  im- 
pelled by  feeling,  written  him  a  letter  that  expressed 
the  sentiments  she  then  felt,  and  of  which  she  was 
not  ashamed;  "one  may  weep  over  one's  mistakes, 
but  to  deceive  oneself  is  not  a  crime.  What  do 
you  wish  of  me?"  He  replied,  chilled  by  her  frigid 
attitude,  that  he  had  long  desired  to  express  his  grati- 
tude for  her  letter  and  the  high  esteem  it  had  inspired 
in  him,  but  he  had  been  prevented  first  by  her  own 
commands,  and  then  by  his  illness,  his  failure  to  estab- 
lish himself,  the  indifference  of  his  mother  towards 
him,  and  checks  and  disappointments  of  all  kinds. 

To  these  confidences  Manon  listened  judicially, 
leaning  back  in  her  bergere,  her  cheek  resting  on  her 
hand.  When  the  list  of  misfortunes  was  complete, 
she  answered  icily  that  really  all  this  was  "a  useless 
side-issue." 

D.  L.  B.  was  inexperienced  enough  in  the  ways  of 
women  to  be  disconcerted  instead  of  encouraged  by 
her  elaborate  coldness.  He  persisted  in  his  explana- 
tions, however,  and  begged  her  to  define  what  she 
meant  by  mistakes.  She  returned,  always  in  the  same 
detached  tone,  that  some  special  remarks  had  caused 
her  to  reflect  on  the  mistakes  one  can  make  in  judging 
by  appearances,  and  that  she  had  profited  by  them, 
while  feeling  at  the  same  time  all  the  mortification 
they  caused.     Expressions  of  astonishment  and  regret 


FIRST  SUITORS  105 

on  the  part  of  D.  L.  B.  were  immediately  followed 
by  a  well-pleaded  justification.  Manon  then  con- 
fessed with  her  usual  sans  gene,  that  after  having  dis- 
tinguished him  from  most  young  men  by  placing  him 
far  above  them,  she  thought  herself  obliged  to  class 
him  with  them. 

D.  L.  B.  very  naturally  grew  wann,  saying  that 
she  had  only  heard  one  side,  and  therefore  should  not 
judge  him.  This  gave  her  an  opportunity,  which  she 
was  ungenerous  enough  to  use,  to  freeze  the  current 
of  his  awakening  geniality  by  congratulating  him  on 
remaining  worthy  of  her  esteem,  an  esteem  now  quite 
cleared  of  the  vapors  of  enthusiasm.  This  barbed 
remark  added  a  new  smart  to  his  various  disappoint- 
ments: in  his  career  at  court,  and  in  literature,  for 
his  book  had  not  proved  successful,  and  perhaps  pre- 
cipitated his  resolution  to  turn  his  back  on  the  world 
and  bury  himself  in  the  country. 

They  discussed  this  and  kindred  subjects  for  some 
four  hours.  Manon,  thawed  by  his  evident  distress, 
endeavored  to  console  him  by  the  heart-warming  as- 
surance that  as  long  as  he  was  faithful  to  his  principles 
she  should  never  consider  him  unhappy,  and  that  to 
deserve  one's  own  self-respect  was  the  greatest  of  bless- 
ings, and  an  equivalent  for  the  loss  of  everything  else. 
Perhaps  La  Blancherie  found  her  confidences  in  regard 
to  her  own  situation  more  comforting  than  these  gelid 
maxims.  Manon  confessed  that  fortune  had  deserted 
her  also;  that  she  should  have  to  depend  upon  herself; 
that  she  was  seeking  the  means  of  living  in  liberty; 
that  under  certain  circumstances  she  might  sacrifice 
this  coveted  liberty,  but  that  she  would  have  to  re- 


io6  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

spect  a  man  much  more  than  herself  in  order  to  be 
wilHng  to  owe  him  everything.  La  Blancherie,  more 
encouraged  by  her  admissions  than  dashed  by  her 
reflections,  begged  for  a  correspondence,  the  permission 
to  see  her,  or  at  least  to  send  her  news  of  him,  to  which 
she  opposed  a  resolute  refusal. 

Disappointed  in  these  demands,  D.  L.  B.,  ever  fertile 
in  projects,  proposed  that  Manon  should  write  some 
articles  for  a  journal  that  he  hoped  to  publish  (pre- 
sumably before  his  renunciation  of  the  world).  This 
paper,  an  imitation  of  the  English  Spectatoty  was  to 
be  devoted  to  essays  in  the  form  of  letters,  on  literature, 
criticism,  manners,  and  morals.  Manon  proved  as 
reluctant  to  write  letters  for  his  journal  as  she  was 
to  correspond  with  D.  L.  B.  in  a  private  capacity. 
For  the  moment  she  was  out  of  love  with  letters,  though 
I  do  not  believe  her  refusal  to  collaborate  with  D.  L.  B. 
was  as  high  and  stately  as  she  represents  it  in  her 
Memoires.  The  letter  written  to  her  other  self,  Sophie, 
in  which  she  sets  down  this  interview  immediately 
after  it  happened,  is  much  kinder  and  more  natural 
in  tone  than  the  abstract  of  it  she  wrote  years  after- 
wards when  the  frivolity  and  restlessness  of  D.  L.  B. 
had  been  amply  proved. 

The  long  tete-a-tete  was  finally  interrupted  by  the 
visit  of  jealous  Cousin  Trude,  and  Manon,  the  austere 
and  frank,  let  him  in  through  one  door  while  the 
amoureux  transi  disappeared  through  the  other.  **I 
put  on  a  roguish  air  to  cover  my  desire  to  laugh  at 
the  little  trick  which  I  did  fairly  well;  my  poor  cousin 
thought  it  was  in  his  honor,  and  was  overjoyed.  In 
truth,  I  feel,  through  the  uneasiness  that  the  least  con- 


FIRST  SUITORS  107 

cealment  gives  me,  how  ill  my  directness  would  agree 
with  an  intrigue,  no  matter  how  creditable  it  was  (if 
in  any  case  there  are  creditable  ones),  but  at  the  same 
time  I  acknowledge  that  the  cunning  of  women  is  very 
apt  at  carrying  them  off." 

Thus  Manon's  tragedy  of  disappointed  affection 
ended  with  a  touch  of  farce.  "The  mask,  or  rather 
my  veil,  has  fallen  .  .  .  admiration  is  silent,  illusion 
is  destroyed,  in  fine,  love  exists  no  more."  She  is  en- 
tirely free  from  self-reproach,  and  manages  to  extract 
honey  from  what  to  most  women  would  be  a  bundle 
of  very  bitter  herbs.  She  magnanimously  forgives 
D.  L.  B.  in  her  thoughts  for  not  being  what  she  imag- 
ined he  was,  but  in  the  flesh  she  punishes  him  for  falling 
short  of  her  ideal  of  him.  Once  thoroughly  disillu- 
sioned, she  is  clear-sighted  and  just  in  regard  to  him, 
but  too  self-complacent  in  judging  her  own  attitude. 
She  flatters  herself,  perhaps,  in  believing  that  "her 
image  graven  in  his  memory  will  often  serve  as  an 
object  for  comparisons  by  which  it  will  lose  nothing; 
that  as  long  as  he  preserves  the  taste  for  fine  and  good 
things  he  will  be  obliged  to  associate  them  with  her 
in  his  mind,  and  herein  will  be  her  triumph  and  her 
pride";  ergo  she  has  only  gained  in  this  first  skirmish 
of  the  heart.  She  has  made  a  mistake,  she  has  de- 
ceived herself,  but  her  self-deception  has  been  a  stimu- 
lus to  acts  of  kindness,  and  to  sweet  and  elevated 
thought.  She  has  fashioned  an  idol  for  herself,  but 
has  worshipped  with  a  blameless  heart  and  pure  sacri- 
fices. With  the  same  philosophic  resignation  with 
which  she  renounced  her  faith  when  it  proved  rebel- 
lious to  the  dictates  of  reason,  as  soon  as  the  rain- 


io8  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

bow  mist  of  illusion  melted  away  she  tumbled  down 
her  poor  pinchbeck  god  from  his  altar. 

So  ended  the  maiden  adventure  of  Manon's  heart, 
its  first  quest  for  the  "inexpressive  He."  Poor  La 
Blancherie  was  but  the  peg  on  which  she  hung  a  robe 
of  golden  and  purple  tissue,  fancy  spun,  and  she  was 
too  sane-minded,  too  healthy-hearted,  above  all  too 
clear-eyed,  not  to  recognize  and  confess  her  error. 
But  recognition  and  confession  do  not  forestall  repeti- 
tion. Manon  all  her  life  was  too  apt  to  disguise 
her  preferences  as  admirations.  They  were,  however, 
never  again  as  unjustifiable  as  her  idealization  of  La 
Blancherie. 

Mammes  Claude  Pahin  de  la  Blancherie  was  a  type 
of  the  notionologue  of  his  century,  who  was  to  find  a 
freer  scope  for  his  mental  uneasiness  during  the  Revo- 
lution. There  were  many  individuals  of  his  genus, 
professional  men  with  refined  and  expensive  tastes 
and  small  means,  educated  beyond  their  capacity, 
and  consequently  discontented  with  the  only  positions 
they  were  able  to  fill. 

In  the  conservative  past,  except  in  the  privileged 
classes,  much  was  required  for  the  building  of  a  career. 
The  individual  was  born  predestined  to  a  certain  place, 
to  a  distinct  future;  the  boundary -lines  of  accomplish- 
ment were  fixed,  the  course  of  the  life  race  measured 
and  marked.  There  were  no  free  passes  to  mental 
or  social  distinction.  The  world's  fair  was  open  to 
few.  Life  was  coherent,  its  long  perspective  ordered 
like  a  formal  garden,  prizes  were  distributed  accord- 
ing to  certain  regulations,  and  the  places  at  the  world's 
banquet  were  given  by  rule.  If  men  were  more  con- 
tent than  now  in  the  station  of  life  to  which  it  had 


FIRST  SUITORS  109 

pleased  God  to  call  them,  discontent  had  to  be  asso- 
ciated with  unusual  capacity  to  change  that  station. 
Mere  pretensions  received  less  consideration  than 
they  do  in  our  optimistic  society.  A  desire  to  fly  the 
track  was  not  in  itself  considered  an  evidence  of 
superiority.  The  ideal  of  the  mid-eighteenth  century 
was  to  subdue  circumstances  rather  than  to  defy  them, 
and  the  barriers  by  which  society  was  divided  and 
defended  were  more  often  overleaped  by  the  able  than 
undermined  by  the  envious,  or  shattered  by  the  merely 
rebellious.  The  bloody  but  unbowed  pate  was  less 
reverenced  than  the  head  unbruised  by  butting  against 
conventions,  willing  to  bend  to  established  usage  and 
reserve  its  powers  for  more  subtle  struggles.  Men  of 
unusual  ability  accepted  the  conditions  of  life  as  a 
working  hypothesis  and  wasted  little  force  in  opposing 
them.  The  social  reformer,  therefore,  the  "come- 
outer,"  was  not  the  commonplace  individual  that  he 
has  since  become,  and  had  not  yet  been  classified  and 
labelled.  Therefore  a  young,  briefless  lawyer,  with  a 
fair  education,  a  stock  of  notions,  and  a  facility  in 
writing,  was  a  more  striking  figure  in  Manon's  formal 
social  landscape  than  he  would  have  been  a  decade 
or  two  later. 

Pahin  de  la  Blancherie  was  not  the  literary  adven- 
turer he  has  been  called.  It  would  be  more  just  to 
describe  him  as  a  journalist  without  a  job.  His  was 
the  sensational  modern-newspaper  man's  temperament: 
audacious,  sensational,  superficial,  possessed  of  literary 
talent  and  a  passion  for  novelties,  wanting  in  taste,  a 
stranger  to  delicacy.  An  unabashed  opportunist,  he 
was  born  too  soon  in  a  world  too  young. 

His  first  book,  a  novel  with  a  purpose,  was  a  close 


no  MANON   PHLIPON   ROLAND 

study  of  the  errors  and  vices  of  very  j^oung  men,  and 
of  their  lamentable  results.  It  was  written  "to  en- 
lighten and  assist  parents  in  the  education  of  their 
sons,"  a  laudable  intention  not  too  diffidently  expressed 
by  the  youthful  author. 

Only  the  aloofness  of  a  colorless,  scientific  style 
could  invest  so  repulsive  a  subject  with  dignity. 
Nothing  in  La  Blancherie's  handling  of  his  impos- 
sible theme  justifies  him  in  touching  it  at  all.  He  was, 
nevertheless,  in  his  way  an  innovator  and  a  forerunner 
of  the  modern  school  of  realistic  fiction  which  occupies 
itself  with  questions  economic  and  social,  with  medical 
and  pathological  studies,  as  often  as  with  the  mysteries 
of  the  heart  or  the  problems  of  the  mind.  But  La 
Blancherie  was  too  early  a  laborer  in  this  field  of 
naturalistic  fiction;  his  contemporaries,  like  Manon 
in  her  high-minded  and  penetratingly  analyzed  criti- 
cism of  his  work,  found  it  lacking  in  seriousness.  La 
Blancherie  was  even  in  his  debut  always  sensational. 
He  interspersed  his  distressing  narrative  with  senti- 
mental appeals  and  plaintive  lamentations,  and  smoth- 
ered his  grim  moral  in  the  flowers  of  rhetoric.  Parents 
were  deaf  to  his  warnings,  and  apparently  refused 
enlightenment  and  assistance,  for  the  book  fell  flat. 

His  next  move  was  to  dub  himself  general  agent  for 
scientific  and  artistic  correspondence,  to  open  a  hall 
in  Paris  for  exhibitions  of  pictures  and  lectures  on 
scientific  and  artistic  subjects.  In  connection  with 
this  enterprise  De  la  Blancherie  published  from  1779 
to  1787  a  review  called  News  of  the  Republic  of  Arts 
and  Letters  and  a  catalogue  of  French  artists.  His 
ventures  were  fairly  successful;    Roland  went  to  some 


FIRST  SUITORS  in 

of  the  lectures  and  found  them  well  attended  and 
interesting.  The  news  and  the  catalogue  are  still  help- 
ful to  students  of  the  art  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

In  1788  political  affairs  absorbed  public  attention, 
and  La  Blancherie's  audiences  diminished.  He  aban- 
doned the  review,  closed  his  hall,  and  went  to  London, 
where  he  happened  to  occupy  Newton's  old  house. 
Feeling  that  the  great  astronomer  was  not  sufficiently 
honored  by  his  own  country,  he  proposed  that  in  dat- 
ing all  public  documents,  after  the  words  "year  of 
grace,"  "and  of  Newton"  should  be  added.  He  sug- 
gested also  that  the  name  of  Newton  should  be  given 
alternately  with  that  of  George  to  the  kings  of  Eng- 
land. Albion  was  as  indifferent  to  these  reforms  as 
the  parents  of  Orleans  had  been  to  those  contained 
in  La  Blancherie's  book.  Its  author  drifted  about, 
tirelessly  inventive,  always  busy  with  some  new  proj- 
ect. A  literary  free-lance,  he  had  many  adventures, 
and  one  most  curious  experience.  He  watched  the 
little  bourgeoise  whose  hand  he  had  asked  become  the 
most  powerful  woman  in  France.  He  saw  the  girl  who 
had  once  sent  him  a  tender  letter,  writing  to  the 
King,  the  people,  and  the  people's  leaders,  changing 
the  course  of  European  events,  and  sending  an  ulti- 
matum to  the  prince  bishop  of  Rome.  After  that 
astounding  transformation  all  the  swift  changes  of 
roles,  all  the  history  that  he  saw  made  afterwards,  for 
he  lived  until  181 1,  must  have  seemed  usual  and  ex- 
pected. 


CHAPTER    VI 
FAMILY   AND    SOCIAL    RELATIONS 

Manon's  views  of  people  who  made  no  romantic 
appeal  to  her  were  free  from  any  tinge  of  rose-color. 
In  spite  of  her  retirement  she  had  occasional  glimpses 
of  artistic  and  literary  circles,  of  the  court  and  of  the 
fetite  noblesse.  Mingled  with  her  accounts  of  walks 
and  studies,  and  the  little,  carefully  finished,  Dutch 
pictures  of  homely  life,  are  cleanly  outlined  silhouettes 
of  the  actors  in  such  scenes  of  the  social  comedy  as 
her  half-bourgeois,  half-artistic  environment  afforded 
her.  She  had  always  been  easily  first  in  her  small  world; 
she  now  occasionally  entered  spheres  in  which  she  did 
not  count  at  all — a  salutary,  perhaps,  if  not  a  delect- 
able experience.  She  was  shocked  and  mortified  that 
the  Abbe  Bimont's  housekeeper,  "a  big,  lean,  yellow 
hackney,  harsh-voiced,  proud  of  her  nobility,  boring 
everybody  with  her  domestic  talents,  and  her  parch- 
ments," who  could  not  write  a  decently  spelled  letter, 
and  whose  speech  defied  grammar,  should  be  treated 
with  consideration  everywhere  on  account  of  her  an- 
cestry. Manon  drew  large  conclusions  from  the  respect 
shown  to  an  ignorant  old  maid's  genealogical  tree,  and 
decided  "that  the  world  was  very  unjust,  and  social 
institutions  very  absurd." 

Sophie's  relatives  in  Paris,  who  were  of  the  petite 
noblesse,  did  little  to  render  their  order  more  respect- 

112 


FAMILY  AND  SOCIAL  RELATIONS     113 

worthy.  These  were  an  ignorant  and  tyrannical  old 
uncle,  whom  Manon  nicknamed  "The  Commandant," 
and  the  demoiselles  de  Lamotte,  who  prided  themselves 
greatly  on  their  birth,  and  reverently  preserved,  while 
not  daring  to  use  it,  their  mother's  sac.  This  relic  was 
a  bag,  embroidered  with  the  family  arms,  used  to  hold 
books  of  devotion,  and  which  it  was  the  privilege  of 
the  nobility  to  carry,  or  have  carried  by  page  or  lackey, 
to  church.  The  de  Lamottes'  intimate  circle  was  com- 
posed of  various  specimens  of  the  ancient  regime, 
withering  away  in  a  closed  retort  of  bigotry  and  prej- 
udice, carefully  guarded  by  all  sorts  of  mental  screens 
from  the  live  issues  and  thought-currents  of  their 
time.  There  was  M.  de  Vouglans,  a  learned  but  fa- 
natical magistrate,  who  had  tried  to  refute  Beccaria  in 
a  sanguinary  defense  of  legal  torture.  There  was  the 
Chevalier  des  Salles,  who  had  served  and  been  seriously 
wounded  in  Louisiana — "more  gravely  wounded  in  the 
service  of  Venus  than  that  of  Mars,"  Manon  mischie- 
vously remarks  to  Sophie — and  who  was  affronting 
further  dangers  by  playing  cards  and  lover  at  once 
with  the  coquettish  old  Marquise  de  Caillavelle. 

Letters  were  represented  by  the  de  Lamottes'  con- 
fessor, who  wrote  verses  comparing  Voltaire  to  Satan, 
and  haute  finance  by  a  Cannet  millionaire,  who  said 
regretfully,  after  calculating  the  royalties  on  a  suc- 
cessful play:  "Why  did  not  my  father  have  me 
taught  to  write  tragedies }  I  could  have  done  them 
on  Sundays."  These  people,  keenly  conscious  of  their 
small  quantum  of  noble  blood,  and  of  Manon's  lack 
of  it,  gave  her  a  kind  of  brevet  rank  for  Sophie's  sake, 
and   also  because  her   musical   accomplishments,  her 


114  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

supposed  expectations,  and  her  winning  presence  add- 
ed a  warm  touch  of  Hfe  to  their  genteel  petrifaction. 
But  their  condescension  did  little  to  increase  the 
young  republican's  esteem  for  them  or  their  order. 
She  could  not  help  making  comparisons.  They  were 
so  decidedly  inferior  in  manners  and  culture  to  the 
painters  and  sculptors  who  came  to  her  father's  house; 
**that  an  ignorant  millionaire  or  an  impertinent  offi- 
cer could  enjoy  privileges  refused  to  real  merit  and 
talent"  (to  a  Falconet,  for  instance)  appeared  to  her 
as  comical  as  it  was  unjust. 

Further  experiences  confirmed  this  growing  con- 
viction of  the  absurdity  of  social  conventions.  Grand- 
mama  Phlipon's  sister  had  married  a  certain  M. 
Besnard,  an  intefidant  of  the  fermier  general  Haudry. 
This  was  considered  a  mesalliance  by  bonne-maman, 
whose  family  pride,  her  granddaughter  remarks,  was 
*'deplace."  M.  Besnard  proved  to  be  the  most  ten- 
der and  devoted  of  husbands.  He  and  his  wife  were 
still  living  when  Madame  Roland  wrote  her  Memoirs, 
and  she  always  mentions  them  with  affection.  "I 
am  proud  of  belonging  to  them,  and  with  their  char- 
acter and  virtues  I  should  be  so  even  if  M.  Besnard 
had  been  a  footman."  Haudry,  the  employer  of  M. 
Besnard,  was  a  type  of  the  financier  who,  as  Montes- 
quieu says,  sustains  the  state  as  la  corde  soutient  le 
pendu.  A  shrewd,  close-fisted  peasant,  he  had  found 
his  way  to  Paris,  where  he  became  one  of  those  fer- 
miers  generaux  who  precipitated  the  ruin  of  France. 
He  made  an  immense  fortune  at  the  expense  of  the 
public,  chose  husbands  for  his  granddaughters  among 
the  nobility,   and   left  his  son  the  means  of  playing 


FAMILY  AND  SOCIAL  RELATIONS     115 

the  gentleman.  This  son,  having  purchased  the  do- 
main of  Soucy,  promptly  dubbed  himself  Haudry  de 
Soucy,  and  assumed  a  patrician  manner  of  Hving. 
Among  his  possessions  was  also  the  old  chateau  of 
Fontenay,  where  the  Besnards  spent  the  summer,  and 
where  their  grandniece  made  a  yearly  visit.  Every 
Sunday  there  was  a  ball  on  the  lawns,  a  kind  of  decorous 
saturnalia  where  financiers,  nobles,  and  peasants  danced 
together,  and  Lubin  and  Annette  were  as  welcome  as 
Madame  la  Presidente  or  Monsieur  le  Baron.  Near 
Fontenay  was  the  cottage  of  Manon's  nurse,  and  Fon- 
tenay itself  was  in  the  midst  of  "charming  woods, 
beautiful  meadows,  and  cool  valleys." 

A  visit  to  the  Haudry  family  was  a  necessary  cour- 
tesy, which  was  promptly  returned.  An  invitation 
to  dinner  at  Soucy  followed  and  was  accepted  by  Ma- 
dame Besnard.  To  Manon's  surprise  it  was  not  with 
their  hostess,  but  at  the  second  table  with  monsieur's 
gentlemen  and  madame's  ladies-in-waiting,  in  a  word 
a  Voficey  that  they  dined.  The  girl's  sense  of  humor 
salved  her  momentary  mortification.  Here  was  a 
novel  vista  of  social  life  to  be  observed  and  noted. 
"It  was  a  new  spectacle  for  me,  that  of  these  second- 
class  deities.  I  never  imagined  how  ladies'  maids  could 
play  at  being  grand  folk.  They  were  ready  to  receive 
us,  and  really  made  good  understudies;  dress,  carriage, 
little  airs,  nothing  was  forgotten.  The  fresh  spoils 
of  their  mistresses  lent  to  their  toilets  a  richness 
that  a  self-respecting  bourgeoisie  denied  itself.  The 
caricature  of  bon  ton  was  added  to  a  kind  of  elegance 
as  far  removed  from  the  sobriety  of  the  bourgeois  as 
it  was  from  the  good  taste  of  the  artist.    Nevertheless, 


ii6  MANON   PHLIPON  ROLAND 

the  general  tone  of  the  chat  would  have  deceived  coun- 
try folk.  It  was  worse  with  the  men.  The  sword  of 
monsieur  the  head  butler,  the  attentions  of  monsieur 
the  cook,  the  brilliant  liveries  of  the  footmen,  could 
not  redeem  the  awkwardness  of  their  manners,  their 
stilted  speech,  when  they  wished  to  appear  dis- 
tinguished, or  the  commonness  of  their  language,  when 
they  ceased  to  watch  themselves.  The  conversation 
was  filled  with  marquises,  counts,  and  financiers, 
whose  titles,  fortunes,  and  marriages  appeared  to  be 
the  grandeur,  the  riches,  and  the  business  of  those  who 
talked  of  them.  The  superfluities  of  the  first  table 
overflowed  on  to  this  second  one  with  an  order,  a  neat- 
ness, that  preserved  their  pristine  appearance,  and  an 
abundance,  which  would  be  passed  on  to  the  third 
table,  that  of  the  servants,  for  those  who  sat  at  the 
second  were  styled  officers.  Gaming  followed  the 
meal,  with  high  stakes,  the  ordinary  amusement  of 
these  ladies,  who  played  every  day.  A  new  world  was 
opened  to  me,  in  which  I  found  an  imitation  of  the 
prejudices,  the  vices,  or  the  follies  of  a  world  that  ap- 
peared a  little  better  but  was  hardly  worth  more." 

A  visit  to  Versailles  to  see  the  court  served  to  con- 
firm these  impressions  (September,  1774).  The  Abbe 
Bimont,  the  noble  Mademoiselle  d'Hannaches,  Manon, 
and  her  mother  occupied  a  little  apartment  lent  them 
by  one  of  Marie  Antoinette's  ladies-in-waiting.  Thanks 
to  her  protection  and  the  persistence  of  Mademoiselle 
d'Hannaches,  they  "saw  everything,"  all  the  endless 
and  empty  ceremonies  of  the  court. 

For  a  week  they  watched  the  large  and  small  dinners 
of  the  royal  family,  the  masses  in  the  chapel,  the  gam- 


FAMILY  AND  SOCIAL  RELATIONS     117 

ing,  the  promenades,  all  the  complicated  and  weari- 
some formalities  of  palace  life.  It  was  not  surprising 
that  Manon  preferred  to  look  at  the  statues  in  the 
gardens  rather  than  the  people  in  the  chateau.  She 
longed  to  leave  the  three  stuffy,  dark  rooms  in  the 
attic  where  they  were  lodged,  next  to  the  Archbishop 
of  Paris,  who  occupied  an  equally  small  and  airless 
apartment,  and  from  whom  they  were  separated  b}^ 
so  thin  a  partition  that  they  could  not  speak  without 
being  overheard.  A  glance  at  the  old  plans  of  the 
palace  of  Versailles  proves  in  what  evil-smelling  rook- 
eries and  rat-holes  dukes  and  prelates  were  pleased 
to  lodge,  "pour  etre  plus  a  portee  de  ramper  au  lever  des 
Majestes,"  wrote  the  Spartan  Manon.  She  was  sensi- 
tive to  the  picturesqueness  of  ceremonious  obser- 
vances, but  their  absurdity  and  the  reverence  and  awe 
with  which  they  surrounded,  like  a  kind  of  special 
atmosphere,  a  group  of  individuals  already  too  power- 
ful and  in  no  way  remarkable  in  themselves  aroused 
her  indignation. 

"Why,  what  have  these  people  done  to  you  ?"  said 
her  mother,  who  accepted  the  adoration  of  royalty 
as  she  did  rheumatism  or  the  salt  tax,  without  reason- 
ing or  rebellion.  "They  have  made  me  feel  injustice 
and  contemplate  absurdity,"  retorted  the  admirer  of 
antique  repubhcs.  "I  sighed  while  thinking  of  Athens, 
where  I  could  have  admired  the  fine  arts  without  being 
wounded  by  the  sight  of  despotism;  in  spirit  I  wan- 
dered through  Greece,  I  was  a  spectator  of  the  Olympian 
games,  and  I  was  annoyed  that  I  was  a  Frenchwoman. 
Thus,  impressed  with  all  that  the  happy  days  of  re- 
publics offered  me,  I  passed  over  lightly  the  storms 


ii8  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

with  which  they  were  agitated.  I  forgot  the  death 
of  Socrates,  the  exile  of  Aristides,  the  condemnation 
of  Phocion.  I  did  not  know  that  Heaven  reserved 
me  to  be  a  witness  of  errors  Hke  those  of  which  they 
were  the  victims." 

Was  Manon  in  1774  already  so  ardent  a  republican? 
Did  she  not  in  her  Memoirs  record  the  sentiments  of 
the  woman  rather  than  those  of  the  girl  nineteen  years 
younger  ?  It  is  easy  to  test  the  accuracy  of  her  memory 
of  that  Versailles  visit,  for  she  wrote  an  account  of  it 
to  Sophie  on  her  return  to  Paris  (October  4,  1774). 

"...  I  was  much  amused  during  my  sojourn  at 
Versailles.  It  was  a  journey  undertaken  for  pleasure 
and  curiosity,  and  for  my  part  I  found  what  I  sought. 
.  .  .  With  a  little  imagination  and  taste  it  is  impos- 
sible to  see  masterpieces  of  art  with  indifference,  and 
if  one  is  concerned  witji  the  general  welfare,  one  is  nec- 
essarily interested  in  the  people  who  have  so  much 
influence  on  it.  .  .  .  But  let  us  go  back  to  Versailles. 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  what  I  observed  there 
has  made  me  prize  my  own  situation,  and  bless  Heaven 
that  I  was  born  to  an  obscure  position.  You  will  be- 
lieve, perhaps,  that  this  sentiment  is  founded  on  the 
slight  value  which  I  attach  to  opinion,  and  on  the  real- 
ity of  the  penalties  of  greatness.  Not  at  all.  It  is 
founded  on  the  knowledge  which  I  have  of  my  own 
character,  which  would  be  most  harmful  to  myself 
and  to  the  state  were  I  placed  at  a  certain  distance 
from  the  throne,  for  I  should  be  greatl}^  shocked  at 
the  extreme  inequality  caused  by  rank  between  several 
millions  of  men  and  a  single  individual  of  the  same 
kind.     In  my  position  I  love  the  King  because  I  hardly 


FAMILY  AND  SOCIAL  RELATIONS     119 

feel  my  dependence  on  him.  If  I  were  too  near  him 
I  should  hate  his  grandeur.  Such  a  disposition  is  not 
desirable  in  a  monarchy;  when  it  is  found  in  a  person 
possessing  rank  and  power  it  is  dangerous.  With  me 
it  does  not  matter,  for  my  education  has  taught  me 
what  I  owe  to  the  powers  that  be,  and  has  caused  me 
to  respect  and  cherish  through  reflection  and  a  sense 
of  duty  what  I  should  not  naturally  have  loved.  Thus 
I  believe,  were  it  required  of  me,  I  could  serve  my 
King  as  ardently  as  the  most  zealous  of  Frenchmen, 
though  I  have  not  the  blind  partiality  for  his  master 
with  which  he  is  born.  A  good  king  seems  to  me  an 
almost  adorable  being.  Still,  if  before  coming  into  the 
world  I  had  had  my  choice  of  a  government,  I  should 
have  chosen  a  republic.  It  is  true  that  I  should  have 
wished  it  constituted  differently  from  any  in  Europe 
to-day." 

These  passages  in  the  Memoirs  and  the  letters  have 
been  cited  at  length  because  bits  of  them  have  been 
often  adduced  as  proof  of  Manon's  early  hatred  and 
envy  of  royalty.  The  enthusiasm  of  a  young  creature 
longing  for  a  more  equal  distribution  of  opportunities 
for  human  happiness,  dreaming  of  a  Utopian  republic, 
was  devoid  of  bitterness  and  envy.  Manon's  con- 
demnation of  the  manifestly  unjust  and  absurd  was 
never  unreasonable,  though  sometimes  impatient.  Like 
most  educated  persons  of  the  Third  Estate,  she  was 
justly  intolerant  of  privileges  that  had  no  reason  for 
being,  either  in  the  capacity  of  the  noble  or  the  in- 
capacity of  the  bourgeois.  With  every  thinker  she  was 
opposed  to  the  artificial  distinctions  which  consigned 
the  whole  middle  class  to  subaltern  employments,  and 


I20  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

in  every  career  subjected  it  to  the  precedence  of  so- 
called  superiors,  who  were  often  its  inferiors  in  ability 
and  achievement.  But  her  iconoclasm  was  tempered 
by  taste,  and  she  was  as  ready  to  smile  at  the  pre- 
tensions of  a  poetaster  or  the  pose  of  a  philosopher  as 
at  Mademoiselle  d'Hannaches's  six  centuries  of  noble 
blood. 

Manon  had  ample  opportunities  to  discover  that 
snobbishness  and  adulation  flourish  as  luxuriantly 
in  literary  as  in  aristocratic  circles.  At  the  musicales 
of  the  Abbe  Jeauket,  who  had  been  court  musician  at 
Vienna,  and  had  given  lessons  to  Marie  Antoinette, 
Manon  met  her  first  bluestocking.  This  was  Madame 
de  Puisieux,  a  friend  of  Diderot,  and  the  writer  of  Les 
Caracteres,  a  moral  work.  An  authoress  was  then 
something  of  a  rarity,  and  presumably  a  person  of 
unusual  intelligence  and  dignity.  Manon  was  shocked 
and  disappointed  at  Madame  de  Puisieux's  silliness, 
her  childish  affectations  and  coquetries,  hardly  par- 
donable in  a  young  person,  and  curiously  out  of  place 
in  a  toothless  and  bent  old  lady  of  over  fifty.  Manon 
concluded  that  the  men  who  ridiculed  women  who 
wrote  were  wrong  only  in  attributing  exclusively  to 
them  the  defects  that  they  shared  with  them. 

Another  authoress,  whom  the  girl  met  at  the  con- 
certs of  Madame  de  I'Epine,  clinched  this  opinion. 
The  sculptor  L'Epine,  a  pupil  of  Pigalle,  who  was  an 
old  friend  of  M.  Phlipon,  had  married  an  ex-cantatrice 
in  Rome.  This  lady  on  her  return  to  Paris  gave  weekly 
musicaleSy  to  which  only  "bonne  compagnie"  was  ad- 
mitted, and  where  good  music  was  well  played  and 
sung.     There  Manon  and  her  mother  heard  several 


FAMILY  AND  SOCIAL  RELATIONS     121 

celebrated  musicanti^  and  made  some  desirable  ac- 
quaintances, among  the  ^' insolentes  baronnes,  les  jolis 
abbesy  les  vieux  chevaliers,  et  les  jeunes  plumets.^' 

Through  Madame  I'Epine  also  the  Phhpons  were 
bidden  to  an  assembly  that  met  every  Wednesday  at 
M.  Vasse's  apartment,  near  the  barriere  du  Temple, 
and  was  devoted  to  letters.  The  kindly  cantatrice 
assured  them  that  the  reunions  there  were  "delicious," 
and  persuaded  them  to  accept  an  invitation.  Manon's 
picture  of  it  suggests  one  of  Ollivier's  clear,  delicately 
bright  interiors  with  their  minutely  drawn,  vivid, 
little  figures.  "We  climbed  to  the  third  floor  and 
reached  an  apartment  furnished  in  the  usual  way. 
Straw  chairs,  arranged  in  several  rows,  awaited  the 
audience  and  were  just  beginning  to  be  filled.  Dirty 
copper  candlesticks  with  tallow  candles  lighted  this 
retreat,  whose  grotesque  simplicity  did  not  misrepre- 
sent the  philosophical  austerity  and  the  poverty  of  a 
wit.  Elegant  young  women,  girls,  several  dowagers, 
a  lot  of  little  poets,  des  curieux  et  des  intrigants ,  formed 
the  assembly.  The  master  of  the  house,  seated  before 
a  table,  opened  the  proceedings  by  reading  some  of 
his  own  verses.  The  subject  of  them  was  a  pretty 
little  monkey  that  the  old  Marquise  of  Preville  always 
carried  in  her  muff,  and  which  she  showed  to  all  the 
company,  for  she  was  present,  and  hastened  to  offer 
the  hero  of  the  piece  to  our  eager  eyes. 

"Imbert  [a  well-known  author]  then  took  the  chair. 
Imbert,  poet  of  the  Judgment  of  Paris,  read  an  agree- 
able trifle,  which  was  immediately  praised  to  the  skies. 
His  reward  followed.  Mademoiselle  de  la  Cosson- 
niere  came  after  him,  and  read  The  Adieu  to  Colin, 


122  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

which,  if  it  was  not  very  clever,  was  certainly  very 
tender.  We  knew  that  it  was  addressed  to  Imbert, 
who  was  on  the  eve  of  a  journey,  and  it  was  smothered 
with  compUments.  Imbert  recompensed  his  muse 
and  himself  by  kissing  all  the  women  in  the  assembly. 
This  gay  and  lively  ceremony,  though  performed  with 
propriety,  did  not  please  my  mother  at  all,  and  seemed 
so  strange  to  me  that  I  appeared  confused  by  it.  After 
I  do  not  know  how  many  epigrams  and  quatrains,  a 
man  read  some  verses  in  a  very  declamatory  manner 
in  praise  of  Madame  Benoit.  She  was  present,  and  I 
must  add  a  word  about  her  to  those  who  have  not 
read  her  novels. 

"Albine  was  born  in  Lyons.  She  married  the  de- 
signer Benoit,  went  with  him  to  Rome,  and  became 
a  member  of  the  Arcadian  Academy.  Just  after  her 
widowhood  she  returned  to  Paris,  and  remained  there. 
She  made  verses  and  romances,  sometimes  without 
writing  them,  gave  card-parties,  and  visited  women 
of  quality,  who  paid  her  in  money  and  fine  clothes  for 
the  pleasure  of  having  a  wit  at  their  tables.  Madame 
Benoit  had  been  handsome.  The  aids  of  the  toilet, 
and  the  desire  to  please,  prolonged  beyond  the  age 
which  guarantees  success  in  the  endeavor,  still  ob- 
tained her  some  conquests.  The  openly  voluptuous 
air  of  Madame  Benoit  was  new  to  me.  I  was  not 
less  struck  with  the  poetic  incense  which  was  lavished 
on  her,  and  the  expressions,  'virtuous  Benoit,'  *  chaste 
Benoit,'  repeated  several  times  in  these  verses,  that 
frequently  forced  her  to  raise  a  modest  fan  before  her 
eyes.  Meantime  several  men  who  doubtless  found 
these    eulogies    very    appropriate    applauded    raptur- 


FAMILY  AND   SOCIAL   RELATIONS     123 

ously."  Manon  decided  after  these  disillusioning  ex- 
periences that  she  would  eat  her  fingers  rather  than 
become  an  authoress,  and  that  literature  offered  wo- 
men even  more  opportunities  of  becoming  ridiculous 
than  were  afforded  by  the  fine  arts. 

Pleasanter  than  watching  these  unsuccessful  escalades 
of  Parnassus  were  Manon's  frequent  visits  to  the  "dear 
little  Uncle"  Bimont,  who  had  become  canon  of  the 
Sainte  Chapelle  at  Vincennes.  His  house  there  was 
pretty,  the  walks  in  the  forest  charming,  and  the  so- 
ciety, noble,  ecclesiastical,  and  military,  less  stiff  and 
formal  than  either  in  Paris  or  the  provinces. 

The  chateau  of  Vincennes,  like  the  palace  of  Hamp- 
ton Court,  was  inhabited  by  royal  pensioners,  many 
invalided  officers  and  their  families,  and  a  chapter  of 
ecclesiastics.  Among  them  were  several  whose  names 
fill  a  few  lines  on  the  pages  of  history:  the  Lieutenant 
du  Roi,  Rougemont,  pimply  and  insolent,  as  Mira- 
beau,  his  prisoner,  described  him;  the  learned  and 
toothless  but  still  skittish  Madame  de  Puisieux; 
Moreau  de  la  Grave,  the  royal  censor,  of  the  type 
that  condemned  the  encyclopedic  and  approved  Cre- 
billon's  novels,  and  the  nimble-minded  Caraccioli, 
better  known  to  letters  as  Ganganelli. 

The  chateau  was  a  little  cosmos  and  lodged  six  him- 
dred  persons,  without  counting  the  prisoners  in  the 
dungeon.  The  Abbe  Bimont  was  received  everywhere, 
but  made  no  visits,  and  entertained  but  few  people. 
There  were  balls,  however,  and  races,  inaugurated  and 
patronized  by  the  King's  sporting  brother,  D'Artois, 
illuminations  and  fireworks,  ever  dear  to  the  Gallic 
eye,  and  informal  receptions  every  fine  evening  in  the 


124  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

pavilion  of  the  park.  Manon  forgot  her  books  and 
enjoyed  everything  with  the  zest  of  girlhood,  from 
the  dances  and  the  talks  to  the  visits  to  the  hermits 
in  the  woods. 

They  amused  themselves  at  home,  too,  for  the  abbe 
was  as  young  as  his  niece.  The  only  serpent  in  this 
little  Eden  was  the  blue-blooded  Mademoiselle  d'Han- 
naches,  the  abbe's  housekeeper.  Her  irritable  temper 
and  tiresome  pretensions  troubled  Manon  more  than 
they  did  her  amiable  uncle.  One  day  when  they  were 
declaiming  a  most  moving  scene  from  one  of  Voltaire's 
tragedies.  Mademoiselle  d'Hannaches,  who  had  been 
silently  spinning,  interrupted  them  with  shrill  screams 
to  the  hens,  who,  more  appreciative  than  the  lady  of 
many  quarterings,  had  assembled  to  listen.  Naturally, 
such  incidents  were  trying  to  an  idealist.  After  dinner, 
when  the  table  was  cleared,  with  mufF-boxes  for  racks, 
music  was  made.  "While  the  good  Canon  Bareux, 
spectacles  on  nose,  plays  the  bass  viol  with  shaking 
bow,  I  scrape  my  violin,  another  canon  accompanies 
us  on  a  squeaking  flute,  and  we  have  a  concert  fit  to 
frighten  cats.  Then  I  run  into  the  garden,  pick  a  rose 
or  some  parsley.  I  take  a  turn  in  the  poultry-yard;  I 
amuse  myself  with  the  brood  hens  and  the  little  chicks. 
I  rack  my  brain  for  anecdotes  and  stories  to  warm  up 
these  benumbed  imaginations,  and  to  turn  the  talk 
away  from  the  chapter,  which  sends  me  to  sleep  some- 
times [1776].  ...  At  the  canon's  house  I  must  live 
like  a  canoness.  There  the  wine-cellar  is  better 
furnished  than  the  library,  and  more  time  is  spent  at 
table  than  anywhere  else." 

Some  of  her  holidays  were  more  eventful.  Strict 
as  she  was  in  many  things,  there  was  a  lurking  spirit 


FAMILY  AND  SOCIAL  RELATIONS     125 

of  adventure  in  her.  All  Manon's  world  loved  dis- 
guises and  masks,  and  to  put  on  a  maid's  or  a  peas- 
ant's costume  was  often  a  means  of  travelling  inex- 
pensively and  safely.  Manon,  invited  by  her  cousin 
Trude  to  spend  the  day  in  Etampes,  and  wishing  to 
visit  the  sights  (instead  of  passing  the  time  listening 
to  provincial  gossip  from  her  cousin's  hostess),  dressed 
as  a  peasant,  mounted  a  donkey,  and  successfully 
played  the  role  of  country  girl  all  day.  She  trotted 
about  alone  through  Etampes,  with  her  arms  akimbo, 
visited  everything,  from  the  tanneries  to  the  Calvary 
where  Ravaillac  sharpened  his  knife,  dined  with  the 
cook,  and  decided  that  if  she  were  ever  able  to  travel, 
it  would  be  dressed  as  a  peasant  or  a  man  (June  16, 

1778). 

Perhaps  her  pleasantest  social  relations  were  with 
artists,  relations  singularly  free  from  pretensions  or 
artificiality.  The  genial  freemasonry  of  the  craft  made 
the  engraver  a  welcome  visitor  at  the  studios  of  emi- 
nent confreres.  Manon's  happiest  hours  with  her 
father  were  passed  in  the  ateliers  of  his  friends,  or  at 
art  exhibitions,  where  she  keenly  appreciated  his  tech- 
nical knowledge  of  and  trained  taste  in  the  arts,  and 
his  evident  pleasure  in  communicating  them  to  her. 

A  visit  that  she  made  to  Greuze's  studio  is  pleas- 
antly reported  to  Sophie  (September  19,  1777).  "The 
subject  of  his  picture  is  'The  Paternal  Curse.'  I  will 
not  attempt  to  describe  it  in  detail;  it  would  be  too 
long.  .  .  .  One  may  find  fault  with  M.  Greuze  for 
the  grayness  of  his  coloring,  which  I  should  accuse 
him  of  putting  in  all  his  pictures  if  I  had  not  seen  on 
the  same  day  a  painting  of  another  style  which  he 
showed  me  with  especial  kindness.    It  is  a  little,  naive, 


126  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

fresh,  charming  girl  who  has  just  broken  her  jug.  She 
has  it  on  her  arm,  near  the  fountain  where  the  acci- 
dent has  just  happened.  Her  eyes  are  not  too  widely 
opened,  her  mouth  is  yet  half  ajar,  she  is  trying  to 
realize  her  misfortune,  and  does  not  know  if  she  is 
guilty  or  not.  You  cannot  imagine  anything  more 
piquant  or  prettier.  The  only  fault  that  one  could 
justly  find  with  M.  Greuze  is  that  he  has  not  made  his 
little  one  sorry  enough  to  prevent  her  from  returning 
to  the  fountain.  I  told  him  so,  and  the  pleasantry 
amused  us.  He  did  not  criticise  Rubens  this  year,  and 
I  was  better  pleased  with  him  personally.  He  told 
me  complacently  the  amiable  things  the  Emperor 
said  to  him.  'Have  you  been  in  Italy,  sir.?'  'Cer- 
tainly, Monsieur  le  Comte'  [Joseph  H  was  travelling 
incognito  as  the  Count  of  Falkenstein];  *I  liv^ed  there 
two  years.'  'You  surely  did  not  find  your  style  there; 
it  belongs  to  you;  you  are  the  poet  of  your  paintings.* 
This  remark  was  very  subtle;  it  had  two  meanings. 
I  was  naughty  enough  to  underline  one  of  them,  an- 
swering him  in  a  complimentary  way:  'It  is  true  that 
if  anything  could  add  to  the  expressiveness  of  your 
pictures  it  is  your  descriptions  of  them.'  The  author's 
self-love  served  me  well.  M.  Greuze  appeared  flat- 
tered. I  stayed  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  There 
were  but  few  people  there.  Only  Mignonne  was  with 
me.  I  had  him  almost  to  myself.  I  wished  to  add 
to  the  praises  I  gave  him: 

On  dit,  Greuze,  que  ton  pinceau, 
N'est  pas  celui  de  la  vertu  romaine  ; 
Mais  il  peint  la  nature  humaine: 
C'est  le  plus  sublime  tableau. 


FAMILY  AND   SOCIAL   RELATIONS     127 

I  kept  quiet  and  that  was  the  best  thing  that  I 
did." 

Rousseau  was  less  accessible.  He  had  been  for  at 
least  a  year  the  god  of  Manon's  idolatry  when  a  friend 
gave  her  an  opportunity  to  approach  her  deity  b}^  in- 
trusting her  with  a  commission  for  Rousseau.  Realiz- 
ing that  he  would  not  receive  a  young  girl,  for  his 
devotees  in  Paris  had  been  frightened  away  from  his 
door  by  the  snappish  Cerberus,  Therese  Levasseur, 
Manon  wrote  him  a  long  letter  in  which  there  was 
much  besides  the  original  errand,  announcing  that 
she  would  call  for  an  answer.  She  describes  her  visit 
in  a  letter  to  Sophie: 

"I  entered  a  cobbler's  alley,  the  Rue  Platriere.  I 
climbed  to  the  second  story  and  knocked  at  the  door. 
No  one  could  enter  a  temple  more  reverently  than 
I  did  this  humble  portal.  I  was  agitated,  but  I  felt 
none  of  the  timidity  that  I  experience  in  the  presence 
of  those  petty  society  people  for  whom  I  have  no  real 
esteem.  I  balanced  between  hope  and  fear  ...  a 
woman  of  fifty  years  of  age  at  least  appeared.  She 
wore  a  round  cap,  a  simple,  clean  house-gown,  and  a 
large  apron.     She  had  a  harsh,  even  a  rather  hard  look. 

"  *Does  M.  Rousseau  live  here,  madame?' 

"  *Yes,  mademoiselle.' 

"*May  I  speak  to  him.?' 

"  *What  do  you  want  of  him  .?' 

"  *I  have  come  for  the  answer  to  a  letter  I  wrote 
him  a  few  days  ago.' 

"  *He  is  not  to  be  spoken  to,  mademoiselle;  but  you 
may  say  to  the  person  who  had  you  write — for  cer- 
tainly it  is  not  you  who  wrote  a  letter  Hke  that — ' 


128  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

*'  'Excuse  me,'  I  interrupted. 

*'  'Even  the  handwriting  is  a  man's — * 

"  *Do  you  want  to  see  me  write  ?'  I  said,  laughing. 

**She  shook  her  head,  adding:  'All  that  I  can  say 
is,  that  my  husband  has  given  up  all  these  things  en- 
tirely. He  has  left  everything.  He  would  not  ask 
anything  better  than  to  be  of  service,  but  he  is  old 
enough  to  rest.' 

"  'I  know  it,  but  I  should  have  been  flattered  to 
receive  this  answer  from  his  lips.  I  would  have  profited 
eagerly  by  this  opportunity  to  offer  my  homage  to 
the  man  of  the  whole  world  that  I  esteem  the  most. 
Receive  it,  madame.' 

"She  thanked  me,  still  keeping  her  hand  on  the 
lock,  and  I  went  down-stairs  with  the  very  slight  satis- 
faction of  knowing  that  he  found  my  letter  too  well- 
written  to  believe  it  the  work  of  a  woman."  (February 
29,  1776.) 

Not  long  afterwards  Rousseau  died,  and  Manon 
never  saw  the  writer  who,  after  Plutarch,  had  most 
powerfully  affected  her  philosophy  of  life.  Rousseau 
was  to  her,  as  to  so  many  of  her  contemporaries,  an 
initiator.  His  feverish  passion,  his  sentiment,  that  so 
often  declined  into  sentimentality,  were  the  antidotes 
to  the  dryness  and  cynicism  that  were  withering  the 
heart  of  an  overcivilized,  artificial  society.  The  glow- 
ing eloquence  with  which  in  the  midst  of  conventions 
he  advocated  a  return  to  nature;  his  sanctification  of 
love;  his  tender  idealization  of  the  domesticities;  his 
sympathy  with  childhood;  his  affection  for  beauty, 
music,  flowers,  the  country;  his  audacious  theories 
of    political    organization;    his    novel    social    system; 


FAMILY  AND  SOCIAL  RELATIONS     129 

above  all,  his  knowledge,  intuitive  and  acquired  of 
the  heart,  and  the  irresistible  potency  of  a  poignant 
appeal  to  it — all  these  rhapsodies  and  exhortations, 
and  descriptions,  invested  with  the  magic  of  a  style 
exquisitely  simple  and  beautifully  direct,  caused  not 
only  one  revolution  but  many. 

Like  most  of  his  readers,  Manon  was  charmed  and 
convinced  at  once  by  what  Lecky  called  Rousseau's 
"wonderful  fusion  of  passion  and  argument,"  his  pre- 
eminent trait.  His  logical  faculty,  his  able  defense 
of  his  opinions,  his  vigorous  grasp  of  principles,  were 
those  qualities  that  she  was  qualified  to  appreciate. 
Rousseau's  shortcomings  and  defects  were  invisible 
to  her.  His  lack  of  the  justness  of  mind  that  under- 
lies authoritative  opinions  and  prepares  definite  con- 
clusions by  previously  weighing  and  appraising  values 
was  unperceived  by  her,  captivated  by  the  logic  with 
which  he  defended  his  tenets.  That  he  made  no  original 
discoveries,  that  the  doctrines  of  the  Social  Contract 
were  largely  derived  from  the  works  of  Locke  and 
Sidney,  that  his  political  system,  when  he  diverged 
from  these  models,  was  clumsy  and  complicated,  made 
little  or  no  impression  on  a  girl  unfamiliar  with  ques- 
tions of  practical  politics.  Nor  did  they  on  those  older 
and  wiser,  who  carried  Rousseau's  reforms  and  revolts 
into  every  department  of  life. 

Women  were  the  most  avid  recipients  of  Rousseau's 
message.  His  gospel  was  received  by  them  with  an 
unquestioning  consent,  a  complete  adherence,  that 
they  had  never  yielded  to  the  teaching  of  Voltaire. 
The  reason  is  easily  found.  The  task  of  Voltaire  was 
to  annihilate  the  old  creed,  to  demonstrate  its  incapac- 


I30  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

ity  to  satisfy  the  spiritual  and  mental  needs  of  hu- 
manity; the  mission  of  Rousseau  was  to  establish  a 
new  faith,  to  prove  the  adequacy  of  natural  religion 
to  the  ethical  and  emotional  wants  of  man.  It  is  the 
nature  of  creatures  feminine  to  adore  the  creative  rather 
than  the  destructive  powers.  Voltaire,  the  extirpator 
of  intolerance,  was  perforce  less  authoritative  to  beings 
who  were  receptive  and  assimilative  than  Rousseau, 
the  apostle  of  a  new  worship,  the  religion  of  the  heart. 
He  who  aspires  to  leadership  of  popular  opinion  should 
be  dogmatic.  Assertion,  not  exposition,  is  his  business. 
He  should  not  content  himself  with  a  statement  of 
facts,  and  then  leave  his  followers  to  draw  their  own 
inferences.  With  most  men  outworn  formulas  are  re- 
jected because  newer  formulas  are  ready  at  hand  to 
replace  them.  "From  a  board  one  drives  out  a  nail 
with  another  nail,"  prosaically  remarked  the  poet 
Cino.     Men  live  by  affirmations,  not  by  negations. 

Voltaire  demonstrated;  Rousseau  dogmatized.  Vol- 
taire, as  became  the  founder  of  intellectual  Hberty, 
presented  his  case  with  comment  and  suggestion,  com- 
parison and  example,  and  then  left  the  conclusion  to 
his  reader's  judgment.  Rousseau,  a  true  child  of  clear- 
headed, logical,  narrow-minded  Geneva,  began  his 
case  by  pronouncing  a  decision,  continued  his  plea 
with  a  brilliant  defense  of  his  position,  and  ended  with 
a  burst  of  eloquence,  or  a  touch  of  sentiment. 

Voltaire's  appeal  was  to  the  mind;  Rousseau's  to 
the  feelings.  It  was  the  absurdity  of  legal  torture,  the 
unreason  of  religious  intolerance,  the  stupidity  of 
cruelty,  that  revolted  Voltaire.  It  was  not  only  women 
who  failed  to  perceive  the  earnestness  under  the  gibes 


FAMILY  AND   SOCIAL   RELATIONS     131 

of  this  master  of  mockery,  Voltaire's  method  of  at- 
tack on  abuses  mystified  the  literal-minded  in  general. 
His  light  lash  cut  to  the  bone,  but  it  was  wielded  with 
an  air  of  easy  trifling,  an  appearance  of  detachment, 
that  to  the  enthusiast  seemed  lacking  in  moral  serious- 
ness, Manon  apparently  never  included  the  defender 
of  the  Calas  and  the  Sirven  among  her  admirations, 
though  she  made  many  Protestant  friends. 

The  diamond-pointed  wit  and  the  satire  of  Candide 
left  her  unmoved.  She  merely  mentions  having  read 
it  as  a  child,  and  does  not  refer  to  it  again.  Children, 
like  simple-minded  folk,  and  cultivated  dogs,  and  all 
instinctive  creatures  whose  perceptions  are  unblunted 
by  reasoning  and  undulled  by  reflection,  are  repelled 
by  irony.  Sarcasm  generally  offends,  and  consequently 
seldom  sways,  women.  No  satirist  from  Juvenal  to 
our  own  day  has  ever  been  a  lady's  author.  The  dicta 
of  the  spirit  that  denies  are  reluctantly  accepted  by 
Eve's  daughters.  Voltaire,  the  athlete  of  intellectual 
emancipation,  the  bitter  jester,  raihng  against  bigotry 
and  cruelty,  would  never  have  been  revered  by  them 
had  not  the  scoffer  been  doubled  by  Voltaire  the  bene- 
factor, the  saviour  and  defender.  The  charities  of  the 
Sage  of  Ferney  softened  the  ironies  of  Arouet,  the 
pungent  wit. 

Manon  had  read  Voltaire's  articles  in  the  Encyclo- 
pedie  side  by  side  with  Rousseau's  Emile,  which  she 
admired  temperately  and  discussed  rationally.  But 
with  the  Heloise  she  slipped  past  the  wicket  of  reason 
and  found  herself  in  an  enchanted  wood,  a  realm  of 
demonstrative  afl^ections  and  delicious  emotions,  where 
sentiment  was  lord  of  life.    To  feel  and  to  express  feel- 


132  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

ing,  these  were  the  first  commandments  of  the  new 
ruler,  to  return  to  nature  the  third.  Never  was  sub- 
ject more  eager  to  hear,  more  prompt  to  obey,  than 
was  Manon.  She  was  one  of  a  countless  multitude 
of  converts.  There  can  be  no  clearer  evidence  of  the 
sustained  fervor  with  which  Rousseau's  mandates 
were  followed  than  the  transformation  of  costume, 
of  daily  habits,  of  education,  of  literary  style,  of  the 
face  of  the  earth  itself  which  took  place,  not  only  in 
France  but  in  England,  Germany,  and  Italy,  at  the 
close  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Rousseau  had  made 
man  over  in  his  own  image. 

JuHe,  the  new  Heloise,  does  not  figure  among  our 
"favorite  heroines."  Her  transports  and  despairs, 
her  sacrifices  and  scruples,  would  excite  smiles  rather 
than  admiration  in  a  society  that  cherishes  detach- 
ment as  she  cultivates  expansion,  and  no  doubt  Saint- 
Prieux  seems  as  far  away  from  the  sympathies  of  the 
twentieth-century  lover  as  is  Theagenes  or  Amadis. 
But  to  Manon  the  exalted  and  loquacious  pair  seemed 
as  real,  as  moving,  as  were  Lancelot  and  Guinevere 
to  ill-starred  Francesca.  Rousseau  sanctioned  Manon's 
own  excess  of  emotion,  her  ardors  and  enthusiasms; 
he  kindled  her  imagination,  which  her  studies  and 
meditations  had  held  in  leash;  she  confessed  as  much 
in  after  life. 


CHAPTER    VII 
BEREAVEMENT   AND   NEW    FRIENDS 

Manon's  mother,  her  daughter  suspected,  had  pru- 
dently kept  the  Nouvelle  Heloi'se  from  the  intense  and 
imaginative  girl.  It  was  not  until  after  Madame 
Phlipon's  death  that  the  book  was  brought  to  Manon 
by  the  Abbe  Legrand  in  the  hope  of  rousing  her  from 
the  lethargy  into  which  she  had  fallen.  Her  loss  was 
literally  irreparable.  Her  mother  had  been  ailing  for 
some  time,  and  the  doctors  had  recommended  exercise 
and  country  air,  and  a  short  visit  to  Meudon  seemed 
to  prove  as  beneficial  as  it  was  delightful.  The  day 
after  their  return  to  town  Manon  went  to  visit  Sister 
Agathe  at  the  convent;  she  left  her  mother  a  little 
tired  from  her  excursion,  but  apparently  well,  at  three 
o'clock;  at  five,  on  her  return,  Madame  PhHpon  was 
dying.  The  end  came  before  midnight.  A  stroke 
of  paralysis,  aggravated  by  an  abscess  in  the  head, 
which  had  not  been  suspected  by  her  physicians,  was 
the  cause  of  her  death  (June  7,  1775)- 

The  shock  threw  Manon  into  a  nervous  fever.  For 
two  weeks  the  kind  Besnards,  who  seemed  to  find  youth 
and  strength  to  nurse  her,  feared  for  her  life  and  her 
sanity.  One  fainting-fit  followed  another,  and  the  re- 
lief of  weeping  was  denied  her,  until  a  tender  letter 
from  Sophie  opened  the  source  of  her  tears.  She  felt 
herself  an  orphan,  and  her  first  interview  with  her 
father  after  their  bereavement  increased  her  sense  of 

133 


134  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

isolation.  M.  Phlipon's  proffered  consolations  were 
of  a  more  practical  than  sentimental  nature.  Provi- 
dence had  disposed  of  everything  for  the  best,  he  as- 
sured Manon.  Her  mother's  work,  viz.,  her  child's 
education,  was  finished,  and  if  Manon  was  fated  to 
lose  one  of  her  parents,  it  was  fortunate  that  Heaven 
had  left  her  the  one  who  would  be  most  useful  to  her 
pecuniarily !  This  eminently  sensible  consideration 
hterally  distracted  the  bereaved  girl.  Her  father's 
insensibility  pierced  her  wounded  heart  anew,  and 
brought  on  a  return  of  the  dangerous  swoons  and  con- 
vulsions. She  was  convinced  that  she  was  her  mother's 
unique  mourner,  and  the  sorrow  that  should  have 
gently  drawn  father  and  daughter  together,  com- 
pleted their  estrangement. 

Madame  Phlipon's  death  closed  the  sunny  and  tran- 
quil period  of  Manon's  youth;  with  that  gentle  spirit, 
its  cloudless  morning  passed  away.  The  girl  now  in- 
herited her  mother's  household  cares,  which  she  shared 
with  the  devoted  Mignonne,  and  the  far  more  difficult 
task  of  trying  to  divert  and  interest  her  father,  and  to 
keep  him  by  his  own  fireside.  She  Was  lamentably 
unsuccessful.  Piquet  was  insipid  when  played  for 
love,  conversation  flat  where  there  were  no  ideas  and 
tastes  in  common,  no  love  of  music  or  of  books.  After 
some  dutiful  endeavors  M.  Phlipon  fled  from  the  dul- 
ness  of  evenings  at  home  to  more  convivial  society. 
If  the  story  of  the  Idle  Apprentice  is  a  sad  one,  that 
of  the  Idle  Master  is  sadder  still.  M.  Phlipon  grew 
every  day  more  indolent  and  dissipated;  he  took  a 
mistress,  and  he  spent  more  than  he  earned.  Help- 
lessly Manon  watched  their  modest  fortune  dwindle 


BEREAVEMENT  AND   NEW   FRIENDS     135 

away.  After  her  mother's  death  her  own  dowry  should 
have  been  secured  to  her,  but  her  relatives  thought, 
naturally,  that  her  interests  were  safe  in  her  father's 
hands,  and  also  feared  to  offend  him  by  asking  for  the 
customary  inventory  of  property.  Manon  herself 
had  too  much  family  pride  to  complain  of  her  father's 
disorders  and  extravagance. 

Her  books  and  her  pen  were  her  consolations.  She 
wrote  a  number  of  meditations  and  descriptions,  which 
she  entitled  somewhat  pompously  (Euvres  de  loisir,  et 
reflexions  diverses.  She  had  no  other  object  in  writ- 
ing than  to  record  her  thoughts  and  experiences  and 
to  express  her  emotions;  and  these  essays  are  in  no 
way  remarkable.  They  are  tinged  with  a  mild  melan- 
choly, and  are  generally  didactic  in  tone.  They  con- 
tain touches  of  grace  and  feeling;  among  them  is  a 
very  tender  tribute  to  Madame  Phlipon's  memory, 
and  a  vivid  account  of  a  literary  pilgrimage  to  the 
Hermitage  of  Rousseau  at  Montmorency  with  M.  de 
Boismorel  (October  29,  1775). 

This  gentleman,  whom  Manon  had  not  seen  since 
her  stay  with  Bonnemaman  on  the  lie  Saint  Louis, 
came  to  make  his  visit  of  condolence  after  Madame 
Phlipon's  death  (June,  1775).  He  found  the  studious 
child  had  budded  into  a  pretty  and  cultivated  girl. 
He  soon  made  a  second  visit;  Manon  was  absent, 
but  her  CEuvres  were  on  the  table  in  her  little  retreat 
that  M.  Phlipon  was  indiscreet  enough  to  show  him. 
M.  de  Boismorel  begged  for  a  sight  of  the  manuscripts, 
and  le  parent  terrihley  who  did  nothing  by  halves, 
promptly  lent  them  to  the  curious  visitor. 

The  wrath  of  Manon,  sing  O  Muse,  when  on  her 


136  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

return  she  discovered  the  violation  of  her  sanctuary ! 
"This  offense  against  Hberty  and  propriety,"  as  she 
termed  it,  was  condoned  next  day  after  receiving  a 
well-turned  letter  from  M.  de  Boismorel,  offering  her 
the  use  of  his  library  and  expressing  his  interest  in 
her  work.  This  was  the  origin  of  a  long  correspondence 
and  a  warm  friendship;  Manon  tasted  for  the  first 
time  the  pleasure  of  being  appreciated  by  a  man  whose 
judgment  she  valued. 

M.  de  Boismorel  possessed,  besides  his  books  and 
many  other  desirable  things,  an  estate  below  Charen- 
ton,  the  Petit  Bercy,  with  a  garden  running  down  to 
the  Seine.  He  often  pressed  the  Phlipons  to  visit  him 
there,  but  Manon,  remembering  his  mother's  reception 
of  Bonnemaman,  long  resisted,  and  only  yielded  when 
further  refusal  would  have  imperilled  her  friendship 
with  her  dear  "Sage,"  as  she  called  her  new  friend. 
It  is  amusing  to  compare  this  interview  with  the  former 
one.  The  ladies  of  the  De  Boismorel  family  were  in 
the  summer  drawing-room  when  the  Phlipons  arrived, 
and  the  dragon  of  Manon's  memory  seemed  less  formi- 
dable in  the  presence  of  her  amiable  and  devout  daugh- 
ter-in-law. The  mama,  who  had  patronized  Madame 
PhHpon  and  treated  Manon  as  though  she  were  a  muff- 
monkey  or  a  spaniel,  was  rather  more  polite  to  a  tall 
and  dignified  young  woman: 

"'How  good-looking  your  dear  daughter  is,  M. 
Phlipon  I  Do  you  know  that  my  son  is  enchanted 
with  her  ?  Tell  me,  mademoiselle,  don't  you  wish  to 
be  married  ?' 

"'Others  have  thought  about  that  for  me,  madame, 
but  I  have  not  yet  reasons  to  decide  me.' 


BEREAVEMENT  AND   NEW   FRIENDS     137 

"*You  are  hard  to  please,  I  think.  Have  you  any 
objections  to  a  man  of  a  mature  age?' 

"*The  knowledge  that  I  should  have  of  the  person 
himself  would  alone  determine  my  liking,  my  refusal, 
or  my  acceptance.' 

"'That  kind  of  marriage  has  more  durabiUty;  a 
young  man  often  slips  through  your  fingers  when  you 
believe  him  most  attached  to  you.' 

***And  why,  mother,'  said  M.  de  Boismorel,  who  had 
just  come  in,  'why  should  not  mademoiselle  believe 
herself  able  to  captivate  him  utterly  V 

"'She  is  dressed  with  taste,'  observed  Madame  de 
Boismorel  to  her  daughter-in-law. 

"'Ah!  extremely  well,  and  so  modestly,  too,'  she 
answered,  with  the  suavity  which  belongs  only  to  the 
devout,  for  she  was  of  that  class,  and  the  prim  little 
ringlets  that  shaded  an  agreeable  face  which  had  seen 
thirty-four  summers  were  the  sign  of  it. 

'"How  different,'  she  added,  'from  that  mass  of 
plumage  we  see  fluttering  above  empty  heads.  You 
don't  care  for  feathers,  mademoiselle  .f" 

'"I  never  wear  them,  madame,  because  being  the 
daughter  of  an  artist,  and  going  out  on  foot,  they  would 
seem  to  announce  a  position  and  a  fortune  which  I 
don't  possess.' 

"'But  would  you  wear  them  in  another  situation  ?* 

'"I  don't  know.  I  attach  small  importance  to  trifles. 
Appropriateness  is  my  only  rule  in  such  matters,  and 
I  take  care  not  to  judge  a  person  by  my  first  impres- 
sions of  her  dress.' 

"The  observation  was  severe,  but  I  made  it  so 
mildly  that  its  edge  was  dulled. 


138  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

"  'A  philosopher!'  she  exclaimed  with  a  sigh,  as  if 
she  recognized  that  I  was  not  of  her  kind." 

How  differently  would  this  patronizing  kindness 
have  been  received  by  a  young  person  of  the  middle 
class  across  the  Channel !  How  an  English  Manon 
would  have  blushed  and  simpered  and  bobbed  her 
thanks  for  the  great  lady's  condescension  !  "La,  ma'am, 
thank  you  kindly — it  will  be  my  study  to  deserve  your 
future  commendation,"  Miss  Burney's  Evelina  would 
have  said  shyly,  hanging  her  head  in  a  pretty  con- 
fusion, far  more  winning  than  the  cool  self-possession 
of  this  featherless  philosophe. 

M.  de  Boismorel's  garden  and  library  and  the  ex- 
cursions he  planned  for  the  Phlipons  proved  more 
pleasing  than  his  womankind.  His  only  son,  Roberge, 
an  ordinary  and  eccentric  boy  of  seventeen,  often 
formed  one  of  the  pariie  carree.  He  had  an  unpleasant 
habit  of  staring  at  Manon,  but  she  saw  more  curiosity 
than  friendliness  in  his  looks,  and  rather  resented  his 
attentions.  To  her  he  was  but  one  of  those  many  in- 
ferior and  incapable  persons  on  whom  a  whimsical 
social  order  had  bestowed  undeserved  advantages. 
She  learned  later  that  M.  de  Boismorel  had  said  to 
her  father:  "Ah,  if  my  son  were  worthy  of  your  daugh- 
ter, I  might  appear  singular  but  I  would  be  happy!" 

Young  De  Boismorel  was  a  cross  to  his  cultivated 
and  studious  father.  He  was  indolent  and  pleasure- 
loving,  cared  for  little  except  the  opera  and  the  Italian 
comedy  and  the  companionship  of  his  frivolous  cousin, 
De  Favieres.  This  youthful  magistrate,  made  a  con- 
seiller  de  Parlement  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  spent 
his   time  writing   comedies   and   ariettes,  wearing  his 


BEREAVEMENT   AND   NEW   FRIENDS    139 

robe  as  though  it  were  a  jester's  motley.  As  a  counter- 
attraction  to  the  fascinations  of  De  Favieres,  and  as 
an  incentive  to  study,  M.  de  Boismorel  proposed  to 
Manon  that  she  should  gently  admonish  Roberge ! 
Modestly  veiled  by  anonymity,  she  might  in  the  form 
of  a  letter  hold  forth  to  him  on  the  sweets  of  a  useful 
and  innocent  life  and  the  joys  of  work  and  effort. 
Ancient  precepts  that  from  a  father's  lips  had  proved 
ineffectual  might,  with  a  touch  of  mystery  and  com- 
bined with  an  appeal  to  the  boy's  curiosity,  appear 
less  trite  and  more  forceful.  It  was  only  in  a  literary 
century  that  such  means  could  be  conceived  of  to  coun- 
teract a  young  man's  fondness  for  the  stage  and  the 
stage-door.  We  refer,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  the  cor- 
ruption of  the  eighteenth,  but  what  parent  in  the 
twentieth  century  would  count  on  a  prettily  written 
homily  to  reform  a  lazy-minded  and  dissipated  young 
man  ?  Truly  those  were  innocent  as  well  as  golden 
days,  when  the  pen  was  mighty  as  the  powder-pufF. 

Manon,  pressed  into  service  as  a  reformer,  at  first 
declined,  then  accepted,  and  wrote  a  homily  which  she 
despatched  to  Sophie,  who  sent  it  to  Roberge  from 
Amiens.  This  letter  is  an  example  of  an  extinct  literary 
genre.  Bound  to  be  didactic  in  tone,  it  is  a  terse  and 
clear  exposition  of  Manon's  own  philosophy  of  life, 
a  sermon  against  idleness  and  selfishness,  a  eulogy 
of  activity  and  usefulness.  It  is  so  faintly  tinged  with 
irony,  so  deftly  sweetened  by  an  appeal  to  the  recipient's 
self-love,  and  so  stimulating  to  curiosit}',  that  the  boy 
swallowed  the  bitter  draft  as  though  it  had  been  a  sug- 
ared beverage.  He  proudly  read  it  to  his  friends,  who 
ascribed  it  to  that  immoral  moralist  Laclos,  and  envied 


140  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

Roberge  his  scolding  from  such  a  source.  So  deep 
was  the  impression  made  on  his  vanity  that  he  actually 
became  industrious  and  domestic — for  a  little  while. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  the  letter  commences,  "on  the 
banks  of  the  Somme  you  are  known  and  cherished. 
In  spite  of  what  the  good  La  Fontaine  says,  I  will  wager 
that  some  of  the  Abderites  admired  Democritos,  and 
in  this  country,  sir,  our  minds  are  not  so  befogged 
by  the  smoke  of  peat  that  we  do  not  recognize  and 
praise  the  inimitable  color,  the  brilliancy,  the  light- 
ness of  the  manners  of  the  capital;  above  all,  of  that 
class  of  distinguished  inhabitants  in  which  you  hold 
•so  high  a  rank.  One  of  my  fellow  citizens  [Gresset] 
celebrated  formerly  with  success  the  exploits  of  a 
famous  parrot;  there  is  still  among  us  more  than  one 
author  fitted  to  take  you  for  his  hero.  I,  however,  shall 
keep  the  silence  becoming  a  poor  little  modern  writer, 
disregarding  the  indiscreet  ardor  which  in  a  transport  of 
admiration  cries  to  me  audaces  fortuna  juvaty  and  shall 
leave  to  others  who  are  more  expert  the  task  of  cele- 
brating the  gift  of  being  amiable  without  striving  to 
become  so,  and  the  precious  art  of  becoming  indepen- 
dent even  while  daily  acquiring  new  ties.  I  ask  you 
only  what  beneficent  genius  has  bestowed  on  you  these 
rare  gifts  which  make  you  in  my  eyes  an  inexplicable 
phenomenon.  Imbued  with  old  ideas,  I  followed  a  toil- 
some road,  your  example  struck  me,  I  stop  and 
study  it.  .  .  . 

"I  had  hardly  begun  to  live  when,  parched  by  the 
thirst  for  happiness  which  is  common  to  us  all,  I  sought 
anxiously  everything  that  I  thought  could  appease  it. 
What  pleases  at  first  does  not  satisfy  always;   I  have 


BEREAVEMENT  AND  NEW   FRIENDS    141 

proved  that  more  than  once.  Alas !  why  was  I  not  as 
happy  as  so  many  magistrates  without  business,  so 
many  pretty  abbes  without  cares,  so  many  people 
who  do  nothing.  Perhaps,  it  is  true,  habit  and  custom 
would  have  finally  given  me  the  right  to  be  useless 
without  remorse,  and  idle  with  impunity,  but  while 
waiting  for  this  comforting  privilege,  my  fervid  imag- 
ination created  new  griefs  for  me. 

**I  imagined  Minerva  appearing  to  me  under  the 
aspect  simple  and  noble  at  once,  that  characterizes 
wisdom;  her  sage  advice  still  echoes  in  my  ears,  the 
remembrance  of  it  pursues  me  constantly.  Teach 
me  how  to  forget  it,  and  share  with  me  the  importunate 
obsession.  'You  wish  to  be  happy,'  said  Minerva  to 
me;  'learn  then  how  to  be  so.'  " 

Then  follows  an  exposition  of  Manon's  system  of 
moral  philosophy,  and  its  practical  application  to 
daily  life.  Setting  out  with  the  desire  of  happiness  as 
the  means  of  gratifying  it,  she  advocates  an  intelligent 
self-interest:  human  solidarity,  the  unity  of  society, 
the  non-existence  of  independent  felicity  impose  on  us 
the  obligation  of  being  useful,  while  study  and  reflec- 
tion furnish  us  the  only  means  of  understanding  our 
duties  and  the  strength  of  mind  to  perform  them. 

"*An  enlightened  reason  is  the  preservative  against, 
or  the  balm  for,  misfortune;  a  full  and  occupied  life 
is  the  pivot  of  pleasures.  Even  if  everything  is  only 
a  matter  of  opinion,  if  existence  is  but  a  dream,  it 
does  not  follow  that  there  are  no  rules  by  which  we 
may  dream  more  at  our  ease,  and  the  sage  will  always 
follow  them.  Let  me  light  in  thy  heart  the  divine 
fire  of  enthusiasm  for  the  beautiful,  the  good,  and  the 


142  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

true.'  With  these  words  Minerva  disappeared  and 
left  me  troubled,  moved.  I  began  to  follow  the  path 
she  traced  for  me,  when  seeing  you  nimbly  running  in 
the  opposite  direction,  a  wish  to  gallop  after  you  was 
born  in  me.  I  did  so,  here  I  am,  but  let  it  be  to 
lead  you  back  again. 

"It  is  useless  to  carry  my  fiction  further;  you  under- 
stand me.  I  know  you  well  enough  to  believe  that 
yours  is  a  nature  that  permits  us  to  hope;  I  have  seen 
a  father  who  deserves  to  gather  the  fruit  of  his  care. 
The  exhortation  of  a  man  who  will  remain  unknown 
to  you  should  not  be  indifferent  to  you.  Feeling  and 
truth  guide  my  pen,  they  alone  should  touch  you,  as 
they  alone  with  me  replace  wit  and  talent.  How 
flattered  I  should  be,  if  on  finding  you  what  you 
might  be  on  my  return,  I  should  be  able  to  say  to 
myself:  *I  have  contributed  to  his  happiness,  and  to 
that  of  a  worthy  family,  of  which  he  is  the  consola- 
tion and  the  hope.'  " 

M.  de  Boismorel's  kindness  supplied  Manon  not 
only  with  such  tomes  as  those  of  Bayle  but  also  the 
literary  novelties  of  the  moment.  By  the  Sage's 
invitation  she  attended  a  sitting  of  the  Academy,  a 
social  as  well  as  a  literary  event,  on  Saint  Louis's  day 
(August  25,  1775).  It  was  a  complicated  and  lengthy 
performance,  beginning  with  a  mass  in  the  chapel, 
sung  by  the  stars  of  the  opera.  A  fashionable  preacher 
pronounced  the  panegyric  on  the  saintly  King,  ren- 
dered piquant,  on  this  occasion,  by  an  indirect  satire 
of  the  government  and  constant  references  to  the 
new  philosophy.  In  the  evening  Manon  saw,  for  the 
first  time,   some  of  those  writers  whose  works   were 


BEREAVEMENT  AND   NEW   FRIENDS     143 

her  daily  companions.  She  confesses  to  disappoint- 
ment. The  audacious  D'AIembert  was  insignificant 
to  look  on,  and  sharp  and  rasping  to  hear,  and  the 
Abbe  Delille  read  his  tuneful  verses  in  an  unmusical 
voice.  The  annual  prize  was  given  to  La  Harpe,  and 
his  essay,  L'Eloge  de  Catinat,  has  taken  a  permanent 
place  in  French  literature.  This  more  than  fulfilled 
the  girl's  expectations,  and  she  paid  it  the  tribute  of 
tears,  tears  of  enthusiasm,  of  noble  excitement.  And 
to  one  "born  a  scribe"  a  meeting  of  the  Academy  was 
truly  a  red-letter  da}^  This  public  homage  to  litera- 
ture, this  honoring  of  letters  as  one  of  the  nation's 
glories,  not  only  by  the  intellectual  element  but  by 
the  court,  the  nobles,  the  fashionable,  and  the  frivolous, 
seemed  a  sanction  of  her  own  master-passion,  and  to 
link  the  solitary  and  obscure  student  to  an  illustrious 
band  of  coworkers. 

Manon's  devotion  to  literature  was  wholesomely 
incited  by  the  appreciation  and  companionship  of 
some  new  and  congenial  acquaintances.  The  "Sage 
of  Bercy"  was  but  the  first  among  a  little  group  of 
congenial  friends  that  frequented  the  Phlipon  house- 
hold. Manon's  mother  lacked  the  social  instinct  with 
which  her  more  expansive  and  highly  vitalized  daughter 
was  endowed.  Visits  from  friends  outside  the  family 
circle  had  generally  been  confined  to  the  shop  and  the 
studio;  they  now  extended  to  the  salle,  where  there 
was  a  shy  but  cordial  hostess,  who  could  listen  as  well 
as  she  could  talk,  and  whose  wide  reading  and  alert 
mind  lent  a  vivid  and  varied  charm  to  conversation. 
And  the  friends  who  occasionally  dined  with  the 
Phlipons,  and  sat  out  the  long  '" apresdisnees^^  around 


144  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

the  fire,  chatting,  reading  aloud,  reciting  verses,  dis- 
cussing freely  without  heat  or  bitterness  all  things 
under  the  stars,  and  some  things  beyond  them,  appear 
singularly  living  and  attractive  through  the  dust  of 
a  century.  One  feels  a  faint  retrospective  envy  of 
the  girl  who  could  gather  about  her,  poor  and  obscure 
as  she  was,  such  a  coterie  of  studious  and  intellectual 
men,  and  a  conviction  that  the  social  conditions  which 
produced  them  were  more  favorable  to  the  expansion 
of  mind  and  development  of  character  than  modern 
historians  are  disposed  to  admit.  M.  de  Sainte  Lette, 
M.  de  Sevelinges,  the  Captain  of  Sepoys,  Demont- 
chery,  the  Swiss  watchmaker  More,  the  Abbe  Bexon, 
a  collaborator  of  BufFon,  to  whose  works  he  intro- 
duced Manon,  and  Pictet  de  Warambe,  a  Genevese 
literary  man  of  some  note,  who  corresponded  with 
Franklin,  wrote  for  the  Journal  des  Dames,  and 
planned  and  discussed  his  articles  with  Manon,  formed 
her  little  circle,  in  which  M.  de  Sainte  Lette  was 
facile  princeps.  He  was  a  man  of  sixty  years,  who 
having  been  a  waster  in  his  youth,  had  been  obliged 
to  become  a  worker  in  later  life.  To  mend  his  broken 
fortunes  he  had  passed  thirteen  years  in  Louisiana, 
as  superintendent  of  the  French  trade  with  the  In- 
dians, where  his  "prodigious  strength  of  body,  fully 
equalled  by  that  of  his  mind,"  is  noted  in  a  page  of 
New  World  history.  He  was  spending  ten  months  in 
Paris  when  he  made  Manon's  acquaintance  (January 
II,  1776),  through  a  letter  of  introduction  to  her  fa- 
ther, and  was  on  his  leisurely  way  back  to  Pondicherry, 
where  he  occupied  an  official  position.  He  spent  a 
large  part  of  his  leave  in  Paris  at  Manon's  fireside. 


BEREAVEMENT  AND   NEW   FRIENDS     145 

Gentlemen  of  over  forty  years  of  age  were  considered 
harmless  by  M.  Phlipon — a  most  vigilant  duenna  when 
younger  men  were  present.  The  society  of  this  dis- 
illusioned yet  not  embittered  man  of  the  world,  who 
was  also  a  man  of  affairs,  who  knew  the  savannas  of 
America  as  well  as  the  bosquets  of  Versailles,  and 
whose  naturally  philosophical  mind  had  been  en- 
riched and  developed  by  his  wide  experience  of  men, 
brought  a  novel  element  into  Manon's  life.  M.  de 
Sainte  Lette  personified  for  her  that  knowledge  of  the 
world  which  she  had  hitherto  often  failed  to  discover 
in  the  specimens  of  the  ancien  regime  that  had  drifted 
across  her  social  horizon.  His  winning  simplicity 
pleaded  pardon  for  his  mental  and  social  superiority, 
and  his  utter  absence  of  claim  or  pretension  disposed 
his  auditors  to  forgive  his  attainments.  To  the  at- 
traction of  a  frank  though  grave  manner  M.  de  Sainte 
Lette  added  an  intellectual  vigor  and  independence 
of  character  which  the  gentle  "Sage"  did  not  pos- 
sess. No  wonder,  as  Manon  writes  Sophie,  the  hours 
galloped  by  in  his  society,  and  M.  de  Sainte  Lette 
seems  to  have  felt  for  the  eager,  intelligent  girl  that 
indefinable  yet  most  definite  sentiment  which  it  is 
the  privilege  and  the  consolation  of  the  autumn  of 
Hfe  to  feel  in  its  fulness. 

There  is  a  wistful  sweetness,  a  sense  of  evanescence, 
a  dim  foreboding  of  separation  in  the  friendship  of 
the  very  young  and  the  old.  "Why  did  you  come 
into  the  world  so  late?"  "Why  could  you  not  have 
waited  for  me?"  the  old  and  young  unconsciously 
ask  each  other.  Manon's  two  friends  were  lost  to  her 
soon  after  she  had  learned  to  know  and  depend  upon 


146  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

them.  Sunstroke  carried  off  M.  de  Boismorel  after 
an  illness  of  only  a  few  days  (September  13,  1776), 
and  M.  de  Sainte  Lette  died  at  Pondicherry  in  1778- 
79.  He  had  left  a  heritage  to  Manon  in  M.  de  Seve- 
linges,  whom  he  had  presented  to  her.  They  mourned 
Sainte  Lette  together,  exchanged  manuscripts,  criticised 
each  other's  writings,  for  M.  de  Sevelinges  had  also 
coquetted  with  letters  and  corresponded  for  some 
time.  M.  de  Sevelinges  was  melancholy,  lonely,  and 
sentimental.  He  possessed  that  delicate  taste  which 
Diderot  remarked  was  the  result  of  remarkable  sense, 
delicate  organs,  and  a  melancholy  temperament. 
Manon  was  pleased  and  flattered  by  his  observations 
on  her  compositions.  Indeed,  the  Sage  and  Sainte 
Lette  had  already  surprised  her  by  urging  her  to  write, 
to  choose  a  literary  genres  and  to  develop  and  perfect 
it.  "If  I  were  a  man  I  would  do  so,"  was  Manon's 
reply  to  these  encouragements. 

Meanwhile  she  continued  to  chat  and  meditate  on 
paper,  though  her  time  for  so  doing  was  filched  from 
sleep  and  exercise,  as  she  tells  Sophie  (December  25, 
1776).  "You  find  it  strange  that  I  write  to  you  al- 
ways at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  details  of 
my  daily  life  will  tell  you  how  I  pass  my  time.  At 
this  season  I  never  rise  until  nearly  nine  o'clock;  the 
morning  is  spent  in  household  tasks;  in  the  afternoon 
I  sew,  thinking  hard  all  the  time,  and  inventing  any- 
thing that  I  please,  verses,  arguments,  projects,  etc. 
In  the  evening  I  read  until  supper-time,  which  time  is 
not  fixed,  as  it  depends  on  the  return  of  the  master  [of 
the  house],  who,  always  out  during  the  day,  with  no 
regard  for  his  affairs,  leaves  me  too  often  to  answer  to 


BEREAVEMENT  AND  NEW   FRIENDS     147 

all  comers  who  wish  to  see  him  on  business.  He  comes 
home  generally  at  half  past  nine,  sometimes  at  ten 
o'clock  and  later.  Supper  is  soon  finished,  for  when 
there  are  few  dishes,  when  one  never  speaks  a  word 
and  eats  fast,  meals  cannot  last  very  long.  Then  I 
take  the  cards  to  amuse  my  father  and  we  play  piquet. 
During  the  intervals  I  try  to  make  talk;  laconic  an- 
swers cut  it  short.  I  turn  my  skein  to  catch  up  a  bit 
of  thread,  I  toil  but  in  vain.  Time  passes,  eleven  o'clock 
strikes,  my  father  throws  himself  on  to  his  bed,  and  I 
go  into  my  room  and  write  until  two  or  three  o'clock." 
In  June,  1777,  the  Academy  of  Besan^on  offered  a 
prize  for  the  best  essay  on  "How  can  the  education 
of  women  make  men  better  ?"  Manon  found  the  sub- 
ject attractive,  and  wrote  a  discourse  which  she  sent 
to  the  academy.  There  were  nine  competitors,  among 
them  Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre.  None  of  the  papers 
quite  filled  the  conditions,  so  the  competition  was  ad- 
journed until  the  next  year,  when  neither  Mademoiselle 
Phlipon  nor  the  author  of  Paul  et  Virginie  was  rep- 
resented. Manon's  essay  was  reviewed  and  criticised 
justly  and  ably  by  M.  de  Sevelinges,  whose  notes 
she  greatly  prized  and  sent  to  her  girl  friends.  To  some 
extent  he  began  to  take  in  her  life  the  place  left  sadly 
vacant  by  the  death  of  M.  de  Boismorel.  Manon 
was  intellectually  lonely.  Her  heart  was  unoccupied, 
financial  ruin  was  before  her,  and  her  vision  of  pure 
and  disinterested  passion  had  proved  a  fata  morgaria; 
her  relatives,  though  kind  and  affectionate,  inhabited 
another  planet  mentally.  Madame  Desportes,  in 
whose  house  assembled  the  most  congenial  people 
of  Manon's  acquaintance,  was  always  making  matches 


148  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

for  her,  presenting  potential  husbands  to  her,  and 
urging  her  to  marry.  Manon's  cousins,  the  Trudes, 
were  not  intellectually  stimulating.  The  husband,  a 
manufacturer  of  mirrors,  adored  respectfully  and  dis- 
tantly, yet  most  jealously,  his  wonderful,  clever  kins- 
woman, and  bored  her  to  extinction  almost  in  conse- 
quence. Madame  Trude  was  the  Parisienne  we  have 
agreed  to  call  typical.  She  combined  a  deep  sense 
of  the  hollowness  of  the  world  with  a  passion  for 
its  futilities.  She  contrived  to  be  truly  pious  and 
extremely  coquettish  synchronously,  never  missed  a 
mass  or  a  ball,  and  would  pass  three  hours  before  her 
glass  after  sitting  up  all  night  with  a  sick  friend.  She 
would  weep  all  the  morning  over  her  husband's  rough- 
ness or  neglect,  laugh  and  sing  all  the  afternoon,  and 
dance  all  the  evening.  Neither  of  these  people  ever 
opened  a  book,  or  possessed  an  idea  in  common  with 
the  cousin  they  both  loved.  Association  with  them 
was  like  playing  with  grown-up  children. 

In  this  dearth  of  kindred  minds  M.  de  Sevelinges's 
companionship  grew  very  precious  to  Manon.  His 
letters  were  the  loopholes  through  which  she  looked 
out  on  the  world  of  intellectual  activities.  The  prac- 
tical M.  PhHpon,  who  indulged  in  too  many  extrava- 
gances himself  to  permit  any  in  his  daughter,  soon 
objected  to  a  correspondence  that  cost  several  cents 
a  day  in  postage-stamps.  Manon  rebelled  against 
having  her  outlook  walled  up;  she  therefore  begged 
her  uncle  Bimont  to  receive  M.  de  Sevelinges's  letters 
for  her  at  Vincennes.  The  good  abbe,  willing  as  one 
of  Shakespeare's  priests  to  oblige  a  lady,  forwarded 
the  letters  under  his  own  hand.     He  had  great  con- 


BEREAVEMENT  AND  NEW   FRIENDS     149 

fidence  in  his  niece,  none  whatever  in  his  brother-in- 
law,  and  he  regarded  M.  de  Sevelinges  as  an  ordinary 
suitor,  rather  old  for  Manon,  a  little  too  well  born, 
a  little  too  poor,  to  please  M.  Phlipon,  but  desirable 
in  many  ways. 

Manon  did  not  undeceive  the  amiable  abbe,  and 
the  epistolary  chat  ran  on  smoothly  until,  in  spite  of 
his  fifty-five  years  and  his  two  grown-up  sons,  M.  de 
SeveHnges  fell  in  love,  pallidly  and  waveringly,  with 
Manon.  Her  dowry  had  shrunk  to  a  pittance,  his 
income  was  too  small  to  support  a  second  family  with- 
out impoverishing  his  children.  He  therefore  sug- 
gested to  Manon,  whose  existence  was  becoming  daily 
more  and  more  precarious  and  unhappy  through  her 
father's  disorders,  that  they  should  form  a  union  like 
those  of  some  notable  early  Christians,  a  marriage  of 
mental  communion  and  sympathy.  Manon,  who 
afterwards  described  this  arrangement  to  Sophie  and 
to  M.  Roland,  had,  without  loving  him,  grown  very 
fond  of  the  sensitive,  courteous  gentleman,  and  asked 
nothing  better  than  to  become  his  daughter  under 
the  name  of  wife.  Her  radiant  visions  of  happiness 
had  been  dimmed  by  painful  acquaintance  with  the 
darker  side  of  life.  La  Blancherie's  defection  and  his 
impossible  book,  her  father's  dissipation,  two  or  three 
unpleasant  experiences,  had  somewhat  tarnished  her 
ideal  of  man,  and  she  esteemed  herself  fortunate  in 
becoming  the  lifelong  friend  of  a  philosopher  who 
was  also  a  gentleman. 

But  there  was  a  vagueness,  a  mysterious  reticence 
about  M.  de  Sevelinges's  proposal  that  was  disturbing 
to  confidence.     Manon's  frankness  did  not  encounter 


ISO  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

equal  candor.  She  was  puzzled,  then  suspicious,  and 
the  correspondence  languished.  One  day  she  was 
called  to  the  shop  to  see  a  customer  in  the  absence  of 
her  father.  She  found  there  an  elderly  gentleman 
who  ordered  an  engraved  seal.  There  was  something 
strangely  familiar  in  his  voice  and  appearance,  but 
it  was  not  until  he  had  gone  that  Manon  realized,  in 
a  bewildered  way,  that  the  customer  was  M.  de  Seve- 
linges  in  disguise  (November  i,  1778).  Far  from  being 
touched  by  this  romantic  escapade  of  her  ambiguous 
suitor,  Manon  was  shocked  and  annoyed.  She  realized 
the  dangers  of  despising  the  defenses  of  conventionality. 
She  felt  also  that  M.  de  Sevelinges  had  forfeited  his 
dignity  by  this  clandestine  visit.  Her  own  self-respect 
suffered  through  the  suspicion  that  he  thought  such 
concealment  could  be  agreeable  to  her.  It  never  oc- 
curred to  her  that  her  adroit  arrangement  for  receiv- 
ing his  letters  might  suggest  further  enterprises  sub 
rosa  to  an  experienced  man  of  the  world,  who,  "like 
the  poor  cat  i'  the  adage,"  stood  hesitating  on  the  brink 
of  a  decision.  His  action  decided  Manon,  however, 
and  put  her  on  her  guard.  Still,  she  did  not  break  openly 
with  him  until  after  her  betrothal  to  M.  Roland,  when 
she  gave  the  coup  de  grace  to  their  moribund  corre- 
spondence in  a  letter  that  is  a  model  of  kind  severity. 
The  young  girl  who  ventured  outside  the  stockade 
of  convention  had  to  be  prepared  for  an  occasional 
attack,  and  sometimes  even  a  blow.  Manon  had 
counted  too  much  on  the  rectitude  of  her  intentions 
and  her  conviction  that  frankness  might  be  substituted 
for  prudence.  As  it  was,  she  returned  from  this  little 
sally  into  the  open  with  no  more  harm  than  an  added 


BEREAVEMENT  AND   NEW   FRIENDS    151 

distrust  of  men  and  their  professions.  Her  early  ideal 
was  being  battered  into  a  different  shape  by  harsh 
experience.  She  was  learning  that  straight  thinking 
does  not  necessarily  imply  clean  living,  and  that  the  pos- 
session of  the  wit  to  know  does  not  furnish  the  will  to 
do  the  right,  and  was  in  consequence  disposed  to  look 
reverently  on  any  one  who  united  these  qualifications. 
She  realized  that  philosophy,  like  devotion,  had  its 
hypocrisies  and  its  TartufFes;  therefore,  she  always 
anticipated  with  pleasure  the  visits  of  a  friend  of  the 
Cannets,  who  they  assured  her  was  a  sage  in  con- 
duct as  well  as  in  belief. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

ROLAND    DE    LA    PLATIERE 

This  M.  Roland  de  la  Platiere,  inspector  of  manu- 
factures, bearer  of  a  letter  from  Sophie,  had  presented 
himself  to  Manon  on  January  ii,  1776.  "He  is  an 
enlightened  man,  of  blameless  life,  to  whom  one  can 
only  reproach  his  admiration  for  the  past  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  modern,  which  he  undervalues,  and  his 
weakness  for  liking  to  talk  too  much  about  himself," 
Sophie  had  written  of  him.  Manon  was  busy  with  a 
letter  to  her  friend  when  M.  de  la  Platiere  called.  She 
received  him  en  neglige,  in  white  dimity  short  gown 
and  ruffled  petticoat,  her  unpowdered  hair  turned  up 
under  a  big  cap.  She  had  expected  a  sage — she  saw  a 
tall,  lean,  yellow  man,  of  some  forty  odd  years,  al- 
ready slightly  bald.  His  address  was  good  though 
somewhat  formal,  and  his  simple,  easy  manners  allied 
the  politeness  of  the  well-born  to  the  gravity  of  the 
philosopher.  This  gravity  was  neither  forbidding 
nor  severe,  for  when  he  spoke  his  regular  features  be- 
came animated  and  expressive,  and  a  shrewd  smile 
transformed  his  thoughtful  face.  His  voice  was  deep 
and  his  diction,  though  piquant,  was  harsh.  **An  ex- 
terior more  respectable  than  seductive,"  thought 
Manon,  whose  eyes  were  full  of  the  vivacious,  glowing 
face  of  another  philosopher  of  half  M.  de  la  Platiere's 
years.  But  the  latter  had  dwelt  so  lately  with  the 
rose — he  had  just  left  Sophie — that  Manon  welcomed 

152 


ROLAND  DE  LA  PLATIERE  153 

him  with  timid  cordiality,  blushed,  stammered,  and 
listened  with  pretty  deference  to  his  opinions  on  Ray- 
nal,  Rousseau,  Voltaire,  travelling,  and,  of  course,  the 
government.  The  girl  was  too  fluttered  to  appear 
well;  she  regretted  it  naively  to  Sophie,  fearing  that 
she  had  not  justified  her  friend's  report  of  her.  Never- 
theless, M.  de  la  Platiere  asked  permission  to  come 
again,  which  she  accorded  gladly:  "Nous  verrons  s'il 
en  pro  filer  a.''^ 

He  did  profit  by  it,  but  the  second  visit  was  less 
agreeable.  Manon  had  a  bad  cold.  Papa  PhHpon  played 
watch-dog,  a  tribute  to  the  personal  charm  of  the  caller, 
and  grew  impatient  and  fussy  as  the  visit  lengthened; 
Manon  was  nervous  and  annoyed  by  her  father's  rude- 
ness, and  "was  more  stupid  than  the  first  time."  M. 
de  la  Platiere  laid  violent  hands  on  her  idols.  BufFon 
was  nothing  but  a  charlatan,  his  style  was  only  pretty, 
and  as  for  the  Abbe  Raynal,  his  history  was  not  philo- 
sophical, it  was  a  novel,  only  fit  for  toilet-tables. 
These  heresies  startled  Manon.  She  confesses,  how- 
ever, that  she  does  not  prize  Raynal  quite  so  much 
as  before,  and  is  growing  suspicious  of  Bufix>n — "I  pick 
them  over  more."  The  philosopher  was  evidently  as 
independent  as  she  was  in  his  opinions.  They  agreed 
better  about  the  ancient  writers,  while  regretting 
that  "modern  history  does  not  show  those  touching 
revolutions  where  whole  peoples  struggle  and  combat 
for  Hberty  and  the  public  good."  Patience,  my  friends, 
you  may  yet  see  this  afi'ecting  spectacle ! 

By  May,  Manon  had  learned  to  appreciate  the  men- 
tal rectitude,  sound  judgment,  and  chastened  good 
taste  of  M.  de  la  Platiere's  literary  criticisms,  as  well 


154  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

as  the  variety  and  extent  of  his  information.  In  June 
she  dreamed  of  him,  and  was  sorry  not  to  know  any- 
thing about  him.  In  July  she  gently  resented  Sophie's 
criticism  of  him,  and  in  August  she  accepted  the  cus- 
tody of  his  manuscripts  and  the  responsibility  of  their 
disposal  in  case  he  should  never  return  from  a  long 
Italian  journey.  M.  de  la  Platiere  dined  at  the 
Phlipons,  with  Sainte  Lette  two  days  before  he  left 
Paris.  Good-bys  were  gayly  said,  and  the  traveller 
asked  M.  Phlipon's  permission  to  embrace  Manon; 
it  was  accorded,  and  though  the  ceremony  was  more 
solemn  than  tender,  Manon  graced  it  with  a  blush. 
"You  are  happy  to  go  away,"  said  Sainte  Lette  in 
his  deep  voice,  *'but  hasten  your  return  in  order  to 
ask  as  much  again." 

The  inspector's  Italian  tour  was  a  long  one.  Dur- 
ing the  eighteen  months  that  he  was  absent  from  France, 
Manon  had  ample  leisure  to  study  the  papers  left  in 
her  care,  and  to  form  a  very  definite  opinion  of  their 
author.  Travels,  reflections,  projects  for  future  works, 
personal  anecdotes,  incidents,  and  observations,  jotted 
down  roughly  without  any  pretense  of  arrangement, 
all  bore  the  impress  of  a  strong  character,  a  stern  ideal 
of  duty,  and,  above  all,  ceaseless  mental  activity. 

For  M.  de  la  Platiere  had  also  been  prodigiously  in- 
dustrious in  his  economy  of  time  and  use  of  oppor- 
tunity. And  his  opportunities  had  been  wrested  from 
a  contrary  fate.  If  the  sight  of  a  good  man  struggling 
with  adversity  is  a  noble  spectacle  for  gods,  the  in- 
spector of  manufactures  had  contributed  largely  to 
the  entertainment  of  Olympians.  Born  with  many 
advantages,  the  perversity  of  destiny,  that  vengeful. 


1  liin^t.ai'clf  b  ]\\^uf\kdjiif^^f0:^QL\ 


^^i2£^. 


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J.    \1.   ROLAND  DE   LA   PLATlfiRF..   INSl^KCTOR   ()1-    MANL  1- ACTl^RES 
AT  LYONS 


Engraved  by  Lemoine  in  1779 


ROLAND  DE  LA  PLATIERE 


03 


uninvited  fairy  godmother  who  so  often  intrudes  at 
a  birth-feast,  had  by  some  trick  or  turn  changed  them 
to  stumbling-blocks  in  the  way  of  achievement. 

Jean  Marie  Roland  de  la  Platiere,  born  in  the  manoir 
of  Thizy  (called  Theze  to-day),  baptized  the  19th  of 
February,  1734,  was  one  of  the  ten  children  of  Jean 
Marie  Roland,  the  elder,  and  Damoiselle  Therese 
Bessye  de  Montozan.  The  Rolands  were  an  old 
family  (even  if  we  disregard  a  vague  ancestor  believed 
to  be  a  man-at-arms  of  Charles  VII),  and  begin 
their  line  with  the  definite  Nicholas  Roland,  inhabi- 
tant of  Thizy-en-Beaujolais,  who  in  1574  married  a 
certain  Dame  Gabrielle  Mathieu.  We  do  not  know 
if  hke  the  Prince  Charming  and  the  Beautiful  Prin- 
cess of  fairy-tale  they  lived  happily  ever  afterwards, 
but  they  certainly  had  many  children,  and  the  chil- 
dren achieved  position  and  honor.  Such  picturesque 
titles  as  "Seigneur  de  la  Place,"  "Prieur,"  "Ecuyer,'* 
"Grand  Pe'nitencier,"  "Prevot  des  Marchands  de 
Lyon,"  "Conseilleur  au  Parlement  de  Paris,"  "Baron 
de  la  Tour,"  "Chevalier  de  Saint  Louis,"  "Capitaine 
exempt  des  Cent  Suisses  du  Roi,"  pleasantly  enliven 
the  family-tree.  That  of  noble  Damoiselle  de  Mon- 
tozan was  even  richer  in  such  decorations,  and  one  of 
its  branches  had  been  grafted  on  to  the  trunk  of  the 
Choiseuls.  The  damoiselle  had  aristocratic  tastes, 
played  high,  kept  an  open  house,  and  loved  company, 
with  the  usual  result.  When  Jean  Marie  Roland,  the 
elder,  died,  his  heir,  Dominique,  was  obliged  to  sell 
the  manoir,  the  big  town  house  at  Villefranche,  and  the 
domain  of  La  Platiere  at  Thizy.  The  Rolands,  how- 
ever, still  kept  the  name  of  La  Platiere,  which  they 


156  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

transferred  to  the  Clos  of  Theze,  some  miles  from 
the  town  of  Villefranche,  which  still  belongs  to  the 
family.  Five  of  the  ten  Roland  children  had  died. 
Dominique  and  his  three  younger  brothers  had  all  be- 
come churchmen,  when  to  the  youngest  one,  Jean 
Marie,  was  offered,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  the  choice 
of  going  into  business  or  becoming  a  priest.  He  de- 
chned  both  careers,  and  deciding  to  study  manu- 
factures, he  went  to  Lyons,  then  a  centre  of  the 
linen  trade.  Two  years  later  he  travelled  on  foot  to 
Nantes  to  take  ship  for  the  West  Indies,  but  was  pre- 
vented from  sailing  by  a  hemorrhage  from  the  lungs. 
M.  Godinot,  a  cousin  of  the  Rolands,  who  was  in- 
spector of  manufactures  in  Rouen,  offered  the  young 
Jean  Marie  a  position  there,  which  he  gladly  accepted, 
and  began  his  life's  work:  the  acquisition  of  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  manufactures,  not  only  in  France  but 
in  foreign  countries  as  well. 

His  zeal  and  intelligence  made  him  many  friends  in 
Rouen.  Besides  his  technical  studies  and  work  in 
the  factories,  he  applied  himself  to  science,  mathe- 
matics, chemistry,  botany,  and  even  drawing.  His 
capacity  and  industry  recommended  him  to  Trudaine, 
the  so-called  "ministre  du  commerce"  who  promised 
him  the  first  vacant  position  of  importance,  and  mean- 
while sent  him  to  Languedoc  (1764),  where  he  found 
both  commerce  and  manufactures  "in  a  horrible  state 
of  ruin  and  commotion."  Here  he  first  realized  the 
extent  and  the  importance  of  his  work,  its  intimate 
relations  with  natural  products,  with  nature  herself, 
as  well  as  to  sister  industries,  and  its  close  ties  with 
society,  law,  government,  and  neighbor  nations.     In 


ROLAND  DE  LA  PLATIERE  157 

Rouen,  Roland,  as  history  calls  him,  was  a  diligent, 
patient  student;  in  Languedoc  he  became  an  energetic 
and  enthusiastic  economist.  "The  zeal  of  an  inspec- 
tor, like  his  knowledge,  should  find  its  limits  only  when 
there  remains  no  more  good  to  do,"  he  wrote  just  be- 
fore he  fell  ill  from  overwork. 

Trudaine,  reluctant  to  kill  the  willing  horse,  then 
offered  Roland  the  inspectorship  of  Picardy,  which 
he  accepted  (1766).  This  was  at  once  a  comfortable 
and  an  important  position,  for  Picardy  was  the  third 
manufacturing  province  in  France.  But  to  Roland 
no  post  would  ever  be  a  comfortable  one;  he  was  too 
active-minded,  too  bent  on  improving  and  reviving 
the  national  industries.  Picardy  was  in  a  ferment; 
greater  and  smaller  interests  were  in  collision,  and  new 
decrees  and  interfering  parlements  were  fomenting 
disturbances.  Home  manufactures  had  been  per- 
mitted by  a  decree  of  1762  to  the  peasants,  and  the 
merchants  and  factory  owners  of  Amiens  were  in  open 
rebellion  in  consequence.  They  complained  that  all 
the  standards  of  excellence  had  been  lowered  by  this 
injudicious  liberty  of  production,  and  that  the  quality 
of  the  goods  had  deteriorated.  Roland  soon  discovered 
that  the  fires,  robberies,  and  murders  that  afflicted 
the  city  were  due  entirely  to  the  miser}^  of  the  people, 
caused  in  its  turn  by  the  indefinite  freedom  accorded 
to  industry,  which  had  degenerated  into  utter  license. 
"We  must  give  complete  liberty  in  taste,  the  choice 
of  stufl^s,  the  arrangement  of  colors  and  designs;  on 
the  contrary,  we  must  be  very  rigid  about  everything 
that  extends  and  assures  consumption,  like  lengths, 
widths,  and  qualities,"  Roland  decided.    How  he  com- 


158  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

promised,  how  he  pacified,  soHcited,  argued,  and 
pleaded,  he  has  himself  described  at  greater  length 
than  I  can  follow  here.  As  he  defended  the  work- 
man and  protected  the  poorer  and  smaller  producers, 
he  was  respected  and  beloved  by  the  people,  and, 
very  naturally,  disliked  and  dreaded  by  the  great 
merchants  and  middlemen.  A  meddling,  scribbling, 
criticising  Jack  of  all  trades,  who  hobnobbed  with 
every  master  workman  in  the  province,  knew  every 
factory,  inspected  every  bleaching-field,  learned  every 
process,  and  who,  instead  of  jogging  along  in  the  old 
rut,  was  constantly  suggesting  improvements,  calling 
for  new  processes,  and  inviting  conservatives  to  ad- 
mire and  imitate  foreign  inventions — such  was  Roland 
in  the  eyes  of  the  gros  bonnets  of  Amiens. 

Fortunately  their  hostility  was  impotent  to  check 
his  investigations  or  his  ameliorations.  He  went  often 
to  Paris  to  keep  abreast  of  scientific  discovery;  he 
made  long  trips  through  France  to  visit  her  industrial 
centres,  and  followed  them  by  foreign  tours  through 
Holland,  Flanders,  Switzerland  (where  incidentally  he 
visited  Ferney  and  dined  with  Voltaire),  England, 
where  he  examined  the  new  spinning-machine,  Ger- 
many, where  in  the  great  fairs  of  Frankfort  and  Leipsic, 
the  meeting-place  of  "Occident  and  Orient,  he  found 
people  of  all  nations  and  merchandise  of  all  kinds." 
There  Roland  conceived  the  idea  of  great  international 
exhibitions  of  arts  and  industries,  an  idea  which  was 
realized  more  than  half  a  century  after  his  death,  and 
for  which  he  has  never  been  honored. 

Roland's  accounts  of  his  toils  and  travels  are  a  val- 
uable chapter  in  the  history  of  French  manufactures, 


ROLAND  DE  LA  PLATIERE  159 

and  are  interesting  to  the  general  reader.  Everything 
that  he  examined  was  noted,  measured,  and  carefully 
described,  always  with  a  view  to  the  improvement  of 
the  home  product.  "Everywhere  I  collected  patterns 
and  samples  of  the  stuffs  I  had  seen;  everywhere  I 
noted  dimensions,  prices,  time,  place,  road  and  trans- 
portation expenses,  and  calculated  the  difference  in 
foreign  wages  and  moneys  .  .  .  this  time,  as  always, 
I  brought  back  bales  and  volumes;  this  time,  as  before, 
I  opened  them  both  to  all.  Samples,  tools,  machines, 
methods,  processes,  notes,  everything,  I  offered  for 
the  improvement  of  our  factories  and  our  commerce 
with  as  much  ardor  as  I  had  collected  them."  This  is 
not  overmodest,  but  Roland's  assertions  are  corrobo- 
rated by  his  contemporaries  and  fellow  workers.  These 
reports  are  aids  to  appreciation  of  the  reforms  of  Tur- 
got,  and  strongly  suggest  that  if  they  had  not  been 
opposed  the  Revolution  would  have  come  in  a  milder 
guise. 

During  the  industrial  pilgrimages  Roland,  backed 
by  Trudaine,  kept  up  a  running  fight  with  the  munici- 
pality, the  merchants,  and  the  Chapter  of  Amiens. 
Always  protecting  the  liberties  of  the  workman  against 
the  encroachments  of  the  employer,  he  added  to  his 
cares  a  campaign  against  the  tyranny  of  the  Chamber 
of  Commerce,  the  Municipality,  and  the  royal  agents 
over  the  manufacturers,  whom  they  considered  as 
inferiors  and  excluded  from  the  local  government. 
Not  contented  with  these  reforms,  this  indefatigable 
combatant  of  abuses  attacked  the  monopolies,  and 
even  the  immemorial  rights  of  the  Chapter,  who  owned 
the  only  fuller's  mill  in  this  manufacturing  town  of 


i6o  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

fifty  thousand  souls,  and  refused  to  allow  a  second 
one  to  be  built!  The  retirement  of  TrudainC  (1777) 
resulted  in  the  victory  of  the  Chapter  and  the  dis- 
comfiture of  poor  Quixote-Roland.  He  was  more  suc- 
cessful in  the  improvements  he  introduced  in  machin- 
ery, tools,  and  goods,  notably  the  manufacture  of 
cotton  velvet,  and  under  his  inspectorship  the  number 
of  shops  in  Amiens  trebled.  In  spite  of  the  enmity  of 
the  rich  and  ruling  class  in  Picardy,  his  researches  and 
their  results  made  him  many  friends.  He  was  an 
honorary  member,  associate,  and  correspondent  of 
several  academies  in  Rome,  Paris,  Montpellier,  and 
many  other  French  towns,  and  his  writings  were  quoted 
and  respected  by  his  fellows.  One  of  his  suggestions 
has  become  a  world-wide  reality  and  the  grandest 
of  modern  festivals — the  international  industrial  ex- 
hibition, as  already  noted. 

In  spite  of  his  tireless  labors  in  his  profession,  Roland 
had  found  time  to  become  not  only  a  well-informed 
but  a  cultivated  man.  He  was  as  famiHar  with  the 
liberal  philosophy  of  his  day  as  with  its  belles-lettres 
and  its  history.  He  was  a  lover  of  Italian  poetry  and 
of  Latin  literature.  His  taste  was  pure,  though  rather 
austere.  He  was  a  man  of  sentiment  also,  and  from 
his  busy  life  romance  had  not  been  excluded.  This 
rigorous,  rather  brusque,  decidedly  combative  man  of 
affairs,  with  his  firm  grasp  on  the  realities  of  existence, 
was  not  without  imagination.  He  possessed  an  inner 
life  of  tender  memories  and  proud  aspirations.  Long 
before  he  had  won  the  position  of  inspector,  long  be- 
fore he  could  be  described  as  bald  and  yellow,  he  had 
loved  and  been  loved  by  a  young  Rouennaise,  a  Made- 


ROLAND  DE  LA  PLATIERE  i6i 

moiselle  Malortie,  who  had  died  in  1773,  and  who, 
renamed  CleobuHne  by  Roland,  had  been  mourned  in 
prose  and  verse  by  her  betrothed.  Later  there  had 
been  several  fond  adventures,  notably  a  tragic  episode 
with  a  young  Italian  widow,  proving  that  the  observ- 
ing traveller  had  not  confined  his  attention  to  ma- 
chinery and  manufactures.  The  brilHant  and  coquettish 
Henriette  Cannet  was  deeply  interested  in  the  grave 
inspector,  and  followed  with  some  anxiety  the  progress 
of  his  intimacy  with  Mademoiselle  Phlipon. 

The  later  portraits  of  Roland,  painted  and  engraved 
during  his  ministry  in  1792,  show  a  high-nosed,  deli- 
cate-featured elderly  gentleman,  a  kind  of  benevolent 
ascetic  in  expression,  with  the  unmistakable  air  of 
the  philosopher  and  the  idealist.  His  loosely  flowing 
hair  is  characteristic  of  the  reformer  of  all  ages,  and 
his  frilled  shirt  is  open  at  the  throat  in  a  decolletage 
that  at  sixty  is  pleasing  chiefly  to  the  wearer.  But 
the  gentleman  who  presented  Sophie's  letter  to  her 
friend  sixteen  years  before  was  a  very  difi^erent  person. 
Join-Lambert  discovered  not  long  ago  an  engraving 
from  a  drawing  of  Lemoine's,  dated  1779,  that  pre- 
sents a  truer  image  of  the  inspector  of  Amiens,  This 
M.  de  la  Platiere,  simply  and  conventionally  dressed, 
with  the  high  stock  and  cravat,  the  tight-fitting  coat, 
and  the  powdered  hair  neatly  rolled  at  the  sides  and 
confined  at  the  back  by  the  black  solitaire,  is  a  man 
of  the  world.  The  well-cut  face  is  amiable  though 
alert-looking,  and  suggests  that  the  original  of  the 
portrait  did  not  lack  a  certain  quiet  distinction. 

M.  de  la  Platiere  was,  however,  far  less  conventional 
than  his  portrait.     He  possessed  an  uncompromising 


i62  MANOTSf  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

sincerity  that  many  times  had  proved  a  lion  in  the 
path  of  success.  His  clear  vision,  his  close  grip  on 
facts  and  their  relations,  made  polite  deceptions  and 
the  little  tactful  arrangements  of  truth  by  which  favor 
is  gained,  and  superiors  flattered  and  managed,  dis- 
tasteful, almost  impossible,  to  him.  He  justly  censured 
the  hobbles  and  fetters  by  which  French  trade  was 
partially  paralyzed.  His  valuable  reports  and  in- 
telligent suggestions  were  couched  in  terms  of  un- 
compromising candor.  He  disdained  also  to  conciliate 
the  varletry  and  underlings,  whom  even  now  in  a  re- 
publican France  it  is  wise  to  propitiate.  Very  naturally 
Cerberus  unsopped  fell  upon  the  reformer  in  the  rear. 
Roland's  ruthless  veracity  qualified  the  popularity  he 
won  by  the  unequalled  prosperity  he  brought  to  Amiens. 
He  was  censor  as  well  as  philanthropist — a  kind  of 
Cato  Franklin.  Still,  it  is  wise  to  remember  in  reading 
hostile  criticism  of  him  that  Roland  was  an  innovator, 
and  was  consequently  constantly  accused  of  pride, 
conceit,  overconfidence  in  himself,  as  well  as  a  lack 
of  loyalty  and  patriotism,  because  he  pointed  out  errors 
and  blunders  in  the  administration,  and  often  ad- 
vocated adoption  of  foreign  processes  and  inventions. 
Self-reliance,  even  a  touch  of  arrogance  were  not  un- 
pleasing  to  Mademoiselle  Phlipon,  disgusted  with 
the  supple  spines  of  shopkeepers.  Roland's  high  valua- 
tion of  his  own  services  and  labors,  his  attachment 
to  his  own  opinions,  his  exacting  temper,  seemed  to 
Manon  so  many  proofs  of  his  independence  of  char- 
acter. She  was  inclined,  perhaps,  after  her  recent 
disappointments,  to  overvalue  energy  and  industry 
in  man.  To  her,  frankness  implied  courage;  Roland's 
contempt  for  formalities  and  conventions,  his  cham- 


ROLAND   DE  LA  PLATIERE  163 

pionship  of  the  poor  and  helpless,  and  his  patient  en- 
durance of  discomfort  and  privation,  she  counted  among 
the  manly  virtues  she  was  temperamentally  qualified 
to  appreciate.  That  he  was  peevish  and  exacting, 
alternately  irritable  and  morose  from  constant  over- 
work and  poor  health,  she  only  learned  later. 

As  it  was,  in  the  disenchantments  and  desolation 
of  her  life  he  figured  as  the  virtuous  sage,  and  we  know 
that  Manon's  ideal  man  had  long  been  a  philosopher. 
After  the  ecHpse  of  La  Blancherie,  the  death  of  M.  de 
Boismorel,  the  departure  of  Sainte  Lette,  and  the  mys- 
tification of  M.  de  Sevelinges,  Manon's  thoughts  centred 
in  M.  Roland.  He  and  M.  Sainte  Lette  had  spoiled  her, 
she  wrote  Sophie,  by  giving  her  a  dangerously  high 
standard  of  comparison.  When  M.  Pictet,  the  Genevese 
writer,  congratulated  her  on  having  refused  a  very 
eligible  suitor  because  he  was  indifferent  to  her,  she 
reflected  that  "she  never  found  her  own  ideas  and 
tastes  except  in  men  of  a  certain  age  who  had  corrected 
the  errors  of  youth,  and,  above  all,  in  those  who  had 
known  misfortune  and  the  vicissitudes  of  the  world." 
The  news  of  Roland,  his  hasty  yet  suggestive  notes 
in  his  travels,  brought  to  her  from  time  to  time  by 
his  brother  Pierre,  who  was  the  Prior  of  Cluny,  stimu- 
lated her  imagination  and  occupied  her  thoughts. 
"Quil  est  heureux  de  parcourir  cette  belle  Italie,"  sighed 
the  stay-at-home  as  she  read  of  Roland's  wanderings. 
They  possess  interest  even  for  the  reader  of  to-day 
who  glances  over  the  six  small  volumes  with  their  long 
title:  Lettres  ecrites  de  Suisse,  d'ltalie,  de  Sicile,  et 
de  Malthe  (sic)  par  M.  .  .  .  avocat  au  Parlement,  a 
Mile.  ...  en  1776,  1777,  1778.     Amsterdam,  1780. 

Many  of  these  letters  were  not  sent  in  sequence  to 


i64  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND- 

Mademoiselle  Phlipon.  The  epistolary  form,  so  pop- 
ular in  the  letter-writing  age,  was  given  to  Roland's 
rough  notes  after  his  marriage  when  they  were  ar- 
ranged for  publication  with  the  assistance  of  Madame 
Roland.  M.  Join-Lambert  says  of  them  rather  severely : 
"  Le  mariagey  auquel  ces  confidences  litteraires  ont  con- 
tribue,  a  peut-etre  He  pour  Roland  son  plus  reel  succes 
d'auteur.^*  Yet  it  would  be  difficult  to-day  to  find  a 
manufacturer  or  worker  in  applied  science  who  could 
produce  such  an  all-round  book  of  travel.  Roland 
had  many  interests;  the  extent  of  his  observations 
was  not  curtailed  by  the  exactness  of  his  information 
or  the  definite  object  of  his  travels.  He  made  time 
for  general  sightseeing  and  for  visits  to  celebrities. 
Though  his  work  was  primarily  an  account  of  the 
industries  of  the  countries  visited  and  of  agricul- 
ture in  its  relations  to  commerce,  historical  and  lit- 
erary associations  and  the  fine  arts  found  place  in 
it,  as  well  as  reflections  on  government  and  institu- 
tions. 

The  eighteenth-century  traveller  in  Italy,  were  he 
Doctor  Burney,  Arthur  Young,  or  Goethe,  was,  of 
course,  bound  to  form  and  express  opinions  on  the 
fine  arts.  They  wore  curious  mental  blinders,  those 
intelligent  folk;  invariably  bent  the  knee  before  the 
shabbiest  bit  of  antiquity,  and  averted  a  scornful  eye 
from  the  noblest  mediaeval  monuments.  Roland  erred 
in  good  company  when  he  sought  out  the  temples  of 
Sicily  and  ignored  the  churches  of  Palermo.  He  was 
more  impartial  in  his  judgments  of  men.  Freethinker 
as  he  was,  he  saw  much  to  commend  in  the  mild, 
tolerant  rule  of  the  Pope,  for  "Under  it  a  sage  could 


ROLAND   DE  LA  PLATIERE  165 

live  always  in  security."  Roland's  relationship  with 
the  Choiseuls,  then  influential  in  Rome,  was  probably 
most  useful  to  him  where  influence  counts  for  so  much. 
He  had  several  interviews  with  Pius  VI,  whom  Roland 
praised  for  his  amiable  simplicity  and  courtesy,  and 
who  ''a  su  deposer  ses  grandeurs  et  s^entretenir  avec 
un  etre  son  semhlaUe^  sans  lui  rien  faire  perdre  de  la 
dignite  de  rhomme."     (Lettre  XVIII,  Tom.  V.) 

Roland's  personal  dignity  has  suffered  somewhat 
in  the  letters  of  his  travelling  companion,  Bruyard, 
who  was  appointed  by  the  minister  to  assist  him  in 
his  notes  and  observations.  Like  those  of  many  young 
assistants,  Bruyard's  criticisms  of  his  chief  are  severe. 
These  animadversions  vary  in  gravity.  Roland  de- 
sired to  be  addressed  as  Bias,  but  at  the  same  time  he 
generously  bestowed  on  the  carping  young  neophyte 
the  equally  honored  name  of  Thales.  It  was  as  Bias, 
by  the  way,  that  he  corresponded  with  Mademoiselle 
Phlipon,  who,  more  modern  or  more  modest,  replied 
under  the  name  of  Amanda,  instead  of  that  of  Diotima 
or  Hypatia.  These  innocuous  diversions  were  popular 
among  both  the  lettered  and  the  illiterate.  Practical 
unlearned  folk,  like  Queen  Anne  and  the  great  duchess, 
addressed  each  other  more  prosaically  as  Morley  and 
Freeman.  Apparently  these  good  people  extracted 
as  much  pleasure  from  such  puerilities  as  we  do  from 
hyphenations  and  mysterious,  mediaeval  spellings  of 
commonplace  praenomens. 

Bruyard's  second  indictment  was  far  more  serious. 
Roland  was  scant  of  luggage,  sparing  of  fresh  linen. 
This  is  a  grave  charge,  and  forecasts  the  untidy  re- 
publican of  '92,  the  minister  of  the  interior  affronting 


i66  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

the  court  by  his  shoe-strings  in  place  of  buckles,  and 
his  wide-brimmed  hat. 

As  to  Roland's  mind — the  young  critic  admitted 
that  he  had  brains,  but  observes  that  when  he  met 
some  one  who  had  more,  he  was  mute,  all  ears,  and 
later  repeated  what  he  had  heard  as  though  it  were 
original.  "He  knows  all  books,  their  authors,  and 
their  printers,  and  seems  a  savant  to  a  librarian.  He 
has  travelled  a  great  deal — he  is  a  naturalist,  or  thinks 
he  is,  for  what  isn't  he  ?  Finally,  I  am  a  dolt,  an  ig- 
noramus, I  know  nothing,  and  he  knows  everything," 
Perhaps  the  animus  of  this  paragraph  may  be  explained 
by  this  coda.  The  valet's  testimony  may  be  valuable 
but  he  does  not  see  much  of  the  hero,  after  all,  and  is 
as  prejudiced  as  the  enthusiast,  only  in  a  different  way. 
The  youthful  censor  is  not  more  favorable  to  Made- 
moiselle Phhpon:  "He  [Roland]  often  read  her  letters 
to  me,  qui  annoncent  une  demoiselle  de  heaucoup  d' esprit, 
mais  d'un  esprit  exalte^  et  qui  tout  en  gemissant  d'etre 
nee  du  sexe  feminin,  en  laisse  cependant  entrevoir  les 
faiblesses."  So  much  for  Manon.  He  was  not  easily 
deceived,  this  young  Bruyard. 

It  was  perhaps  in  an  exalted  mood,  or  more  likely  in 
a  lonely  hour,  that  one  day,  some  time  in  the  summer 
of  1777,  Amanda  wrote  the  peripatetic  Bias  a  certain 
"charming  little  letter,"  possibly  after  La  Blancherie 
had  proved  himself  truly  "feather-headed,"  or  Papa 
Phlipon  had  been  unwontedly  trying.  Until  then 
Roland  had  made  all  the  advances.  It  was  he  who 
had  paid  long  and  frequent  calls,  undismayed  by  close 
parental  attendance,  and  who  had  practically  made 
Manon  his  literary  confidente  and  executrix — no  small 


ROLAND  DE  LA  PLATIERE  167 

mark  of  confidence  in  one  who  had  friends  among  well- 
known  men  of  letters.  Now  it  was  the  girl's  turn. 
Her  letter,  received  in  Rome,  was  not  answered  until 
some  time  later.  Roland  also  was  engaged  in  an  ex- 
perimental affair  of  the  heart  with  an  accomplished 
widow  of  Leghorn.  From  this  adventure  he  emerged 
trailing  his  wing  and  dragging  his  claw,  in  sore  need 
of  renovation.  Apparently  Mademoiselle  Phlipon's 
" charmante  petite  lettre""  arrived  opportunel}^  to  poultice 
his  lacerated  breast  and  salve  his  wounds.  He  carried 
it  with  him  to  his  home  in  Villefranche,  where  he  laid 
by  for  repairs  after  his  strenuous  journeyings,  for  a 
traveller's  life  was  not  padded  with  comforts.  "Leav- 
ing Paris  in  1776,  I  returned  in  1778  after  an  absence 
of  eighteen  months.  I  had  again  traversed  Switzer- 
land, travelled  over  all  of  Italy,  crossed  the  Alps  three 
times  and  the  Apennines  three.  I  had  visited  Sicily, 
both  the  towns  and  the  countr3^  I  had  pushed  on 
to  Malta.  Nine  times  I  took  ship.  Three  times  I 
was  in  the  most  imminent  peril,'and  in  danger  of  death. 
I  slept  thirty  nights  on  bare  boards.  I  was  eighty 
nights  without  undressing,  twent3^-two  consecutively, 
only  occasional!}^  changing  my  linen  in  the  daytime. 
I  bore  incredible  fatigues,  rushing  about,  studying 
all  day  long,  often  lacking  the  necessities  of  life,  and 
writing  at  night.  The  passion  for  seeing  and  learn- 
ing bore  me  up.  I  reached  home,  fell  down  like  a 
stone,  and  remained  several  weeks  between  life  and 
death." 

It  was  during  his  convalescence  that  Roland  an- 
swered Manon's  letter.  He  was  still  ill,  depressed, 
weak  in  body  and  in  soul.     He  spoke  darkly  of  seek- 


i68  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

ing  death,  of  a  mysterious  sorrow,  of  the  hollowness 
of  things  terrestrial,  and  the  comfort  to  be  derived 
from  the  letters  of  a  clever  and  charming  young  friend. 
Roland,  the  Spartan,  the  strong  and  self-sufficient 
Roland,  evidently  wished  to  be  petted.  The  wounded 
hero  is  not  less  irresistible  than  the  conquering  war- 
rior. Manon  dressed  his  hurts  with  deft,  gentle  fingers. 
Roland's  numbed  heart  stirred  under  her  soft  touch, 
expanded,  finally  overflowed.  A  correspondence  of 
which  one  hundred  and  twelve  letters  remain  records 
the  Hats  d'ame  of  two  exceptional  beings,  as  well  as 
the  rise  and  progress  of  a  singular  affair  of  the  heart. 
Manon's  first  letter  in  reply  to  Roland's  plaint  is  an 
outburst  of  girHsh  enthusiasm.  I  think  the  page  of 
the  Memoirs  devoted  to  her  courtship  and  marriage 
would  have  been  written  less  summarily  if  Madame 
Roland  could  have  glanced  over  Mademoiselle  Phli- 
pon's  love-letters  again.  Alas  !  the  fires  are  as  eva- 
nescent as  the  snows  of  yore. 

Manon  replied  warmly  and  instantly  to  the  bat- 
tered sage's  appeal  for  sympathy  (October  17,  1777). 
She  reproached  him  for  waiting  until  he  was  less  mel- 
ancholy to  answer  her  letter.  She  had  thought  him 
so  tranquil  and  happy,  while  she  was  passing  the  hard- 
est year  of  her  life,  except  the  one  when  her  mother  died. 
Would  you  believe  it,  yesterday  she  was  writing  to 
Sophie:  "I  spend  my  fife  with  indifference,  and  I  would 
lose  it  without  pain."  "This  expression  escaped  me 
in  a  moment  of  sadness,  but  I  feel  that  friendship 
makes  me  change  my  language."  She  wishes  to  see 
the  rest  of  his  notes,  and  she  ends  by  a  confidence. 
Roland,  if  he  returns  to  Paris  before  he  answers  her 


ROLAND  DE  LA  PLATIERE  169 

letter,  must  glide  lightly  over  what  she  has  written 
of  her  sorrows. 

A  very  pretty  entree  en  mature.  Apparently  Roland 
thought  so,  for  he  sends  his  appreciative  young  friend 
the  remaining  manuscript  of  his  travels.  Her  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  receipt  of  it  is  more  didactic  than 
enthusiastic.  These  notes  included  an  account  of  his 
suit  to  the  intractable  widow,  and  Manon  found  much 
matter  in  them  to  increase  her  misanthropy.  Roland's 
Italians  were  not  estimable.  "One  must  escape  to  the 
heart  of  Switzerland  or  the  banks  of  the  Thames  to  be 
reconciled  with  one's  kind."  To  these  generaUties  a 
little  lesson  is  tacked  on.  "I  am  glad  that  you  have 
traversed — a  tempest,  and  I  congratulate  you  with  all 
my  heart.  It  seems  to  me  that  each  trial  while  exer- 
cising the  strength  of  the  soul  should  increase  it;  from 
this  point  of  view  misfortune  becomes  an  advantage 
to  those  who  know  how  to  bear  it.  Therefore,  I  am 
far  from  pitying  you  at  present." 

The  key  is  lower,  and  the  rather  curt  criticism  of  the 
longed-for  notes  is  the  reverse  of  enthusiastic.  Still 
the  friendship  grew  apace,  for  (August  12,  1778)  Roland 
begs  Manon  to  conceal  the  frequency  of  his  visits  from 
her  old  friends  the  Cannets;  Manon  writes  to  protest 
against  this  dissimulation  and  the  reserve  and  petty 
deceits  it  imposes  on  her  natural  openness.  However, 
the  lady  doth  protest  too  little,  and  her  letter  is  rather 
an  expression  of  the  pleasure  she  feels  in  sacrificing  her 
candor  for  Roland's  comfort  than  a  plaint  of  her  in- 
fidelity to  Sophie. 

A  letter  from  Amiens  of  December  30,  1778,  con- 
tains the  explanation  of  Roland's  request.     Henriette 


I70  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

Cannet  loves  him.  It  is  to  spare  her  that  Roland 
hides  his  assiduities  to  her  friend.  The  poor  girl  is  ill 
— in  fear  of  death.  She  talks  with  Roland,  says  many 
''choses  honnetes";  her  grieved  brother  tells  him  some- 
thing that  shows  they  still  have  hopes  of  him,  "  but  she 
— she  knows  well  that — nothing — nothing — nothing," 
Roland  writes  enigmatically.  This  must  have  been 
mournful  news  for  Manon,  yet  she  gives  but  a  few 
lines  to  it  in  her  long  answer  (of  January  3,  1779)  to 
Roland's  letter.  Their  intimacy  was  greatly  increased 
by  this  secret  between  them,  and  poor  Henriette's  dis- 
appointment drew  them  closer  together.  Nevertheless, 
Roland  was  prudent,  and  in  a  guarded  letter,  written 
to  thank  father  and  daughter  for  some  New  Year's 
gifts,  he  retreated  from  the  position  he  had  seemed  to 
occupy.  Perhaps  this  was  only  a  formal  note  to  be 
read  aloud  to  Papa  Phlipon.  Who  knows .?  Habitual 
frankness  makes  strange  compromises  on  certain  occa- 
sions. As  time  ran  on,  the  expected  occurred,  and  the 
Memoirs  record  briefly  that  during  the  winter  of  1778- 
79  Roland  told  Manon  what  she  probably  knew  long 
before  he  was  conscious  of  it— that  he  loved  her.  The 
girl  confessed  an  equal  flame,  as  her  contemporaries 
would  have  put  it,  but  lamented  that  marriage  between 
them  was  impossible.  Her  lack  of  a  suitable  dowry, 
and  her  father's  extravagance  and  misconduct,  which 
might  at  any  time  break  out  into  open  scandal  and 
increase  the  social  inequality  between  her  and  Roland, 
were  her  reasons — reasons  which  the  lover  accepted 
with  rather  suspicious  resignation.  As  love  was  out 
of  reach,  the  philosophic  pair  agreed  to  forego  it,  and 
cultivate  in  its  stead  a  kind  of  "amitie  amoureuse." 


ROLAND   DE  LA  PLATIERE  171 

A  sentimental  friendship  is  a  beautiful  but  fragile 
possession.  Love  is  an  admirable  actor,  but  for  short 
seasons  only.  The  doctor's  hood  (and  is  not  Abelard 
there  to  prove  it  ?)  becomes  him  vastly,  and  he  can 
fold  his  wings  close  under  the  scholar's  cloak,  and 
carry  his  torch  like  a  sage's  staff  as  well  as  he  can 
wear  a  hundred  other  guises — but  not  for  long.  Love 
thus  austerely  draped  and  disciplined  is  a  very  comely 
godhead,  devotion  to  him  a  very  pretty  and  delicate 
form  of  asceticism — and  Manon  prided  herself  on  act- 
ing ^' en  heroine  de  delicatessen 

Perhaps  the  sweetest  season  of  a  mutual  passion  is 
the  budding  time  of  love,  when  ''amor  puer  est,"  and 
thrives  on  such  dainty  fare  as  sighs  and  looks,  when 
every  advance  is  a  delicious  conquest  of  audacity  over 
timidity,  when  a  stolen  ribbon  is  a  treasure,  and  a 
hand-clasp  an  event.  It  is  precious  and  fugitive  as 
those  rare  days  when  the  vernal  flame  of  spring  foliage 
is  shut  fast  in  the  exquisite  closed  shells  of  the  young 
leaves  and  the  folded  burgeons  of  the  new  blossoms. 
A  warm  rain,  a  few  hours  of  genial  heat,  and  all  this 
lovely  reticence  and  discreet  promise  flowers  into  frank 
fulfilment. 

The  devotees  of  friendship  were  peacefully  happy  for 
some  months.  They  read  and  studied  together,  they 
wrote  each  other  long  letters,  they  exchanged  verbal 
endearments  in  Italian,  and  quoted  from  sugary 
Amintas  and  Pastor  Fidos.  They  confidently  declared 
the  tender  sympathy  that  bound  them  was  the  one 
joy  in  an  otherwise  unpleasurable  universe.  Then  one 
day  in  April  something  happened.  What  ?  From  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  it  may  be  inferred  that  "the  val- 


172  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

orous  and  erudite  Shepherd  Mehndor"  had  saluted  his 
pastorella  with  an  ardor  more  pastoral  than  platonic, 
without  the  permission  and  the  presence  of  Papa  PhH- 
pon,  and  the  shepherdess  was  crying.  Her  pretty, 
unreal  idyl  was  spoiled,  shattered  like  a  broken  Dres- 
den-china eclogue.  Love's  opening  wings  had  ruffled 
his  sober  cloak,  and  his  torch  was  aflame  again.  At 
least  as  much  may  be  inferred  from  Manon's  letter  of 
April  22:  "It  seems  that  I  am  not  satisfied  with  my- 
self .  .  .  and  what  is  worse,  you  are  the  cause  of  it. 
I  feel  the  truth  of  one  of  your  remarks  only  too  well, 
that  the  wrong-doing  of  your  sex  towards  mine  is  all 
our  fault."  She  will  be  responsible  for  them  both  in 
the  future;  she  will  keep  their  friendship  pure.  "I 
confess  that  your  vivacity  intimidates  and  frightens 
me.  It  would  rob  our  intercourse  of  that  happy  con- 
fidence, that  liberty,  that  noble  and  touching  intimacy 
that  are  the  fruits  of  virtue.  It  seems  to  me  that 
friendship  is  not  so  ardent  in  its  caresses.  It  is  sweet, 
natural,  and  innocent." 

Roland's  reply  showed  him  more  moved  than  Manon, 
but  impenitent.  On  the  contrary,  he  reproaches 
Manon  for  the  coldness  and  the  firmness  for  which  he 
praises  her,  also,  though  grudgingly.  The  knowledge 
of  her  worth  excuses,  nay,  justifies  his  transports.  He 
complains  of  her  aloofness,  her  desire  to  continue  to 
enjoy  the  p)eace  of  a  quiet  conscience.  "  Tu  pourrais 
done  etre  heureuse  sans  que  je  fusse  heureux.  This 
thought  wrung  my  heart.  Ah  !  thou  knowest  but  httle 
of  the  ardor  of  my  soul,  and  thou  dost  not  seem  to 
realize  how  much  thou  hast  repressed  it.  Speak  to  me, 
then,  of  the  tranquillity  and  the  triumphs  of  thine.  .  .  . 


ROLAND  DE  LA  PLATIERE  173 

I  have  neither  metaphysics  to  display  nor  antitheses 
to  make.  I  have  only  a  heart  which  is  no  longer 
mine  to  offer  thee.  It  is  frank  to  excess;  it  loves 
thee.  That  is  all  that  I  am  worth,  and  it  is  enough 
for  me  to  be  worthy  of  thee  in  this  way."  All  this 
is  written  for  the  first  time  in  the  intimate  second 
person  singular.  This  is  Roland's  first  love-letter,  as 
unreasonable,  as  artless,  as  boyishly  triumphant  as 
though  it  were  written  years  before  to  Cleobuline.  It 
was  a  most  satisfactory  declaration  of  love,  but  not  in 
the  least  a  proposal  of  marriage.  Roland  offered  his 
heart  but  did  not  mention  his  hand. 

Manon,  as  she  wrote  Sophie,  was  not  an  Agnes. 
She  had  been  trained  in  a  harsh  school.  Experience 
was  her  mistress;  M.  de  Sevelinges's  enigmatic  wooing, 
her  own  self-deception  about  La  Blancherie,  poor  don- 
key that  she  had  generously  draped  in  a  lion's  skin, 
were  severe  lessons.  She  had  been  too  confiding;  had 
counted  on  meeting  her  own  candor  and  openness  in 
her  friend.  Because  she  had  played  her  game  of 
friendship  with  cards  on  the  table,  she  had  expected 
equal  fairness  in  her  partner.  She  had  again  been 
roughly  disillusioned.  Her  father,  too,  had  served  as 
an  unconscious  Helot  to  this  young  Spartan.  She  had 
close  under  her  eyes  a  heartwringing  example  of  the 
disintegration  that  follows  yielding  to  impulse.  She 
was  doubly  guarded  by  imagination  as  well  as  experi- 
ence; was  famihar  with  the  language,  the  unconscious 
arts,  the  self-deception,  the  subterfuges,  of  passion. 
Richardson  and  Rousseau  were  her  initiators,  and  their 
Clarissa  and  Julie  were  at  once  sj^mpathetic  compan- 
ions and  horrible  examples.     The  novels  of  sentiment. 


174  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

far  from  blinding  her  or  distorting  Manon's  views  of 
life,  were  an  admirable  substitute  for  emotional  expe- 
rience. So  much  has  been  written  of  the  ravages  of 
light  literature,  the  disastrous  effects  of  its  perusal  on 
the  callow  mind,  that  one  is  tempted  to  linger  on  its 
educational  value,  en  passant,  and  its  uses  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  actual  tarnishing  experience.  Manon  was 
too  well  versed  theoretically  in  the  sophistry  of  pas- 
sion, the  specious  reasoning  of  a  yielding  heart,  not 
to  be  on  guard  at  once  on  the  receipt  of  Roland's  letter. 
His  own  writings,  as  well  as  those  of  Rousseau  and 
Richardson,  had  furnished  her  matter  for  caution. 

Among  Roland's  papers  there  was  one  addressed  to 
the  obdurate  Italian  widow  on  the  relative  blameless- 
ness  of  a  liaison  with  a  young  girl  compared  to  the 
heinousness  of  a  love-affair  with  a  matron.  The  Itahan 
lady  held  the  more  usual  opinion,  and  Roland  devoted 
several  pages  to  confuting  her.  Perhaps  they  were  in 
Manon's  mind  when  she  replied  to  Roland's  declara- 
tion. If  his  was  a  confession  of  love,  hers  was  the 
confession  of  faith  of  an  ardent  young  creature  whose 
noble  passion  for  truth  and  justice  has  suffered  no 
compromise  with  conventions.  This  letter,  in  spite  of 
its  careful  phrasing,  is  the  spontaneous  utterance  of  a 
generous  heart.  The  young  stoic's  severe  self-disci- 
pline, her  impassioned  pursuit  of  the  finer  issues  of  life, 
told  in  this  difficult  hour  as  the  muscles  of  the  trained 
gymnast  stiffen  to  meet  a  sudden  strain. 

Manon's  happiness  was  at  stake.  Youth  was  flying, 
life  was  narrowing  and  darkening  all  around  her.  This 
one  man,  who  had  amid  mediocrity  and  pettiness 
seemed  to  her  both   an   exception   and   an   example. 


ROLAND   DE  LA  PLATIERE  175 

was  slipping  down  from  the  pedestal  on  which  she 
had  placed  him.  Roland,  the  sage,  the  wise,  kind 
friend,  was  sinking  into  the  mass  of  ordinary,  selfish, 
greedy  mankind.  She  could  not  easily  consign  him 
to  that  category.  The  one  comforting  reflection  that 
remained  was,  Roland  had  misunderstood  her — most 
ancient  apology  offered  by  loving  women  for  the  men 
who  held  them  lightly.  She  would  make  her  position 
very  clear,  trace  the  rise  and  progress  of  her  feelings, 
explain  her  theory  of  conduct.  Surely,  then,  without 
reproaches  or  complaints,  he  would  realize  how  much 
he  had  been  mistaken,  and  would  judge  and  condemn 
himself.  If  there  is  a  certain  law)'er-Hke  conciseness 
in  this  exposition,  a  firm,  clear  reasonableness  that 
proves  the  fever  in  her  veins  had  not  reached  her  head, 
there  is  also  a  tender  appeal  to  Roland,  not  to  forfeit 
her  confidence,  to  be  for  her  the  friend  she  can  trust 
to  defend  her  against  her  own  weakness,  if  need  be. 
In  spite  of  elevation  of  style,  between  the  smoothness 
of  flowing  periods  we  can  divine  the  hurried  throbs  of 
a  lonely  heart,  as  deeply  wounded  in  its  affection  as  in 
its  pride. 

"You  have  laughed  at  my  sermon,  dread  to  hear  my 
complaints.  I  am  sad,  discontented,  and  ill;  my  heart 
is  oppressed.  I  am  crying,  but  my  few  burning  tears 
do  not  relieve  me.  I  do  not  understand  myself,  or, 
rather,  when  I  do  it  is  to  blame  myself,  and  to  tell 
you  once  and  for  all  what  I  am  and  wish  to  be  always." 
A  succinct  survey  of  Manon's  emotional  and  intellec- 
tual life  then  followed.  Her  solitary  childhood,  her 
studies,  her  religious  doubts  and  philosophical  opin- 
ions, her  ideals  of  duty,  are  swiftly  and  simply  touched 


176  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

upon,  a  prelude  to  a  more  intimate  review  of  her  pres- 
ent situation.  "Feeling  deeply  the  obHgations  implied 
by  the  holy  names  of  wife  and  mother,  I  resolved  to 
assume  them  only  for  a  being  worthy  of  my  entire 
devotion.  Among  those  who  sought  it  one  only,  of 
whom  I  have  spoken  to  you  (M.  de  Lbl.),  deserved  my 
heart.  For  a  long  time  I  kept  silence,  and  it  was  only 
when  I  realized  our  impossible  situation  that  I  spoke, 
to  beg  him  to  leave  me.  I  have  since  then  had  reasons 
to  congratulate  myself  on  this  resolution,  which  at  the 
time  was  inexpressibly  painful  to  me.  Many  changes 
have  altered  my  situation  in  life,  but  I  have,  in  spite 
of  them,  persisted  in  my  determination  to  sacrifice 
everything  but  my  ideal.  My  fortune  has  lessened, 
but  my  pride  has  increased.  I  would  not  enter  a 
family  that  did  not  esteem  me  enough  to  consider 
itself  honored  by  allying  itself  with  me,  and  I  should 
be  indignant  with  any  one  who  in  marrying  me  thought 
he  was  doing  me  a  favor.  Naturally  enough,  with 
these  opinions,  I  have  counted  upon  a  single  life  as 
my  lot.  In  this  estate  my  duties  would  be  fewer  and 
less  sweet,  perhaps,  but  not  less  severe  and  exacting. 
I  looked  upon  the  charms  of  friendship  as  pleasant 
compensations;  I  desired  to  enjoy  them  with  the  de- 
licious abandonment  of  confidence,  but  you  are  lead- 
ing me  too  far;  it  is  against  this  that  I  try  to  defend 
myself.  I  saw  in  your  strong,  energetic,  enlightened, 
and  experienced  mind  the  stuff  for  an  ideal  friend;  I 
delighted  in  regarding  you  as  such,  and  adding  to  the 
gravity  of  friendship  all  the  feeling  of  which  an  affec- 
tionate nature  is  capable.  You  were  moved  by  this, 
and  you  awakened  in  my  heart  an  emotion  against 


ROLAND   DE  LA  PLATIERE  177 

which  I  believed  myself  armed.  Then  I  did  not  veil 
it;  I  described  it  unreservedly,  and  I  expected  from 
your  generosity  the  help  that  I  needed.  But  far  from 
sparing  my  weakness,  you  daily  became  more  enter- 
prising, and  now  you  dare  to  ask  me  the  cause  of  my 
embarrassment,  my  silence,  and  my  fears.  Monsieur, 
I  may  become  the  victim  of  feeling,  but  the  plaything 
of  any  one,  never.  You  must  have  met  in  society 
many  women  a  thousand  times  more  lovable  and  in- 
teresting than  I  am  who  proved  to  you  that  the  attrac- 
tion of  pleasure  was  strong  enough  to  make  them 
judge  leniently  of  an  amiable  weakness,  and  the  fugi- 
tive attachment  that  caused  it.  They  can  yield  in 
turn  for  those  who,  one  after  another,  possess  the  art 
of  charming  them.  Brought  up  in  seclusion,  I  may  be 
rustic  and  shy,  but  I  cannot  make  a  pastime  of  love. 
For  me  it  is  a  terrible  passion,  that  would  possess  my 
whole  being  and  influence  my  whole  life.  Give  me 
back  your  friendship  or  fear  to  force  me  to  see  you  no 
more."     (April  23,  1779.) 

To  this  appeal  Roland  replied  diplomatically.  He 
instantly  returned  to  vous  and  to  mademoiselle.  He 
was  hurt  and  indignant.  His  intentions  were  inno- 
cent. He  was  no  vile  beguiler  of  maidenly  affections. 
He  justified  himself  by  remarking  that  his  frankness 
was  greater  than  Manon's,  and  exercised  earlier  in 
their  acquaintance  than  hers.  With  her  his  heart 
was  always  on  his  hps.  As  to  his  outburst:  "Deeply 
moved,  I  believed  that  without  crime  I  was  sharing 
feelings  which  you  accuse  me  of,  and  blame  me  for 
possessing.  I  do  not  analyze  your  principles,  I  respect 
your  person.     I  may  become  unhappy  through  having 


178  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

known  you,  but  I  would  die  before  I  could  insult  you. 
I  do  not  pretend  that  you  consider  my  happiness;  it  is 
enough  for  me  not  to  trouble  yours,  and  if  it  is  too 
deeply  affected  by  a  sentiment  that  enslaves  me,  and 
I  am  to  see  you  no  more,  I  will  try  to  forestall  the  fatal 
moment  when  you  propose  to  proscribe  me." 

Did  Manon  feel  rather  flat  when  she  read  this  miffed 
answer  to  her  tender  heroics  ?  The  Sieur  Roland, 
accused  of  being  too  enterprising,  borrowed  the  meth- 
ods of  a  country  boy,  who,  when  asked  to  take  his 
arm  from  the  back  of  a  girl's  chair,  complies  with  an 
air  of  shocked  surprise  at  her  unworthy  suspicions. 
The  resignation  with  which  Roland  proposed  to  antici- 
pate Manon's  edict  of  exile  was  not  reassuring.  He, 
too,  was  inclined  to  make  terms.  His  notion  of  the 
privileges  of  friendship  was  more  liberal  than  hers,  and 
her  repulse  mortified  more  than  it  hurt  him. 

Manon's  next  letter  was,  therefore,  devoted  to  sooth- 
ing and  coaxing  him  into  good-humor.  "O,  my 
friend,  why  trouble  a  vision  that  could  be  so  beautiful. 
...  I  am  in  a  frightful  state.  I  do  not  know  what 
I  am  writing.  How  you  have  hurt  me !  My  friend 
(I  call  you  this  sweet  name  with  a  melting  heart),  else- 
where you  may  find  less  rigor  but  not  more  tender- 
ness." She  was  aflHicted  by  the  thought  of  his  un- 
happiness,  still  more  by  his  barbarous  assumption 
that  she  could  be  happy  while  he  was  unhappy.  He 
was  invited  to  satiate  himself  with  her  despair  and  to 
contemplate  her  distress.  If  he  dares  to  continue  to 
be  miserable,  "fear  to  become  so  to  a  degree  that  you 
dare  not  face."  She  was  again  tender,  sweet,  and 
despairing,  and  Roland,  manlike,  forgave  her  for  being 


ROLAND   DE  LA  PLATIERE  179 

right  because  she  was  unhappy  in  consequence.  Her 
letter  brought  a  penitent  lover  to  his  knees.  "My 
friend,  my  sweet  friend,  forgive  me;  I  bathe  your  letter 
with  my  tears — let  them  efface  my  offense;  forget  my 
weakness;  consider  only  my  repentance."  His  situa- 
tion is  frightful,  also,  and  will  be  until  he  learns  that 
she  still  loves  him,  and  loves  to  love  him.  He  has 
added  to  her  troubles.  Dreadful  thought !  Why  is 
she  so  tormented  ?  Why  does  she  not  tell  him  .?  Does 
she  not  remember  the  proposal  he  made  to  her  ^.  Is 
not  he  cherishing  it  in  his  heart  t  Will  she  not  answer 
it  clearly  and  in  detail,  giving  other  reasons  for  her 
refusal  than  those  she  has  already  advanced,  and 
which  he  has  considered?  '^ Songe  que  je  te  vols  sans 
cesse,  et  plus  encore  dans  Vavenir  que  dans  le  passe. 
Songe.   .   .   ."      (April  24,  1779.) 

A  hard-hearted  Dulcinea  would  have  been  touched 
by  this  letter,  and  Manon  was  not  marble.  **If  you 
had  loved  me  less  you  would  not  have  been  guilty; 
the  wrongs  and  errors  of  feeling  may  afflict,  but  they 
never  offend."  In  plainer  speech,  it  is  easy  to  forgive 
the  havoc  caused  b}^  one's  own  charms.  No,  Manon 
cannot  add  other  reasons  to  those  she  has  already  urged 
against  Roland's  proposal,  "because  I  have  no  others. 
I  might  perhaps  wish  to  have  stronger  ones  to  see  you 
overcome  them."  She  cannot  enter  into  details;  her 
poor  bonne  Mignonne  is  dying,  and  Manon  is  her 
nurse.  In  a  letter  written  at  five  o'clock  the  next 
morning  beside  the  sick-bed  the  details  demanded  are 
given  and  Manon's  financial  situation  clearly  explained. 
She  has  in  her  own  right  fourteen  thousand  francs. 
After  they  have  been  made  over  to  her  she  will  remain 


i8o  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

with  her  father,  paying  her  board,  and  keeping  house 
for  him.  To  take  possession  of  her  dowry  was  the 
only  means  of  saving  it  for  him  as  well  as  for  herself. 
Papa  Phlipon  did  not  appreciate  the  Fabian  method 
of  helping  folk  in  spite  of  themselves;  he  had  worried 
the  notary,  complained  to  the  neighbors,  and  tried  to 
persuade  himself  and  others,  that  he  was  a  rococo 
Lear,  the  victim  of  fiHal  ingratitude.  Bonnemaman 
Phlipon,  the  Besnards,  and  the  little  uncle  forced 
papa's  hand — one  can  easily  imagine  the  endless  gab- 
ble, the  discussions,  disputes,  and  argumentation  that 
grew  out  of  the  situation.  In  the  midst  of  it  the  faith- 
ful Mignonne  left  hers.  "I  have  always  wished  to 
die  with  you,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  poor  woman, 
pressing  Manon's  hand;  "I  am  content."  Then  the 
little  uncle  carried  off  Manon,  worn  out  with  grief  and 
watching,  to  Vincennes  (April  27). 

On  the  6th  of  May  she  returned  to  Paris,  where  she 
found  an  ultimatum  from  Roland,  that  "they  had  been 
cruel  enough"  not  to  forward  to  her,  and  in  which  the 
prudent  sage,  for  once  treading  circumspection  under- 
foot, ordered  rather  than  entreated  Manon  to  say  yes 
or  no  to  his  proposal.  Their  present  modus  vivendi 
was  too  torturing;  there  must  be  no  more  shilly-shally- 
ing, no  more  conditional  mood.  Will  she  marry  him  ? 
She  must  decide  now  and  quickly.  Observations  on 
general  topics  will  not  count  as  an  equivalent.  Yet 
he  finds  time  to  regret  Mignonne.  "/<?  pleure  avec  toi 
sur  la  cendre  de  cette  bonne  dme  :  eh  !  ce  nest  pas  de  son 
malheur ;  fenvierais  de  finir  comme  elle.  C'est  la  seule 
douleur  que  f  aimer ais  a  prevoir  dans  ton  cceur.^^  (April 
30,  I779-) 


ROLAND  DE  LA  PLATIERE  i8i' 

Happy  Manon !  She  read,  she  wept,  she  tried  to  ex- 
press herself,  she  stifled,  she  threw  herself  upon  his 
breast,  to  remain  there  all  his;  at  least,  so  she  told  him 
in  a  rapturous  paragraph.  She  knew  no  other  reasons 
against  their  .  marrying  than  those  already  given, 
"which  he  has  conquered,"  she  wrote,  apparently  for- 
getting that  in  triumphing  over  her  unselfish  scruples 
he  had  vanquished  them  in  the  leisurely  Fabian  man- 
ner, cunctando,  but  her  Te  Deum  is  as  prompt  and 
joyous  as  though  they  had  been  overturned  by  assault. 
"My  pride  equals  my  passion;  in  any  other  situation  I 
would  have  offered  myself  to  you;  in  mine  you  have 
had  to  oblige  me  to  forgive  your  advantages.  Why 
cannot  I  send  you  my  letter  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  .? 
Adieu,  mon  ami;  be  happy  and  dispose  of  me  to  be- 
come so."     (May  6,  1779.) 


CHAPTER    IX 

COURTSHIP    AND    MARRIAGE 

Manon's  little  bark  might  now  be  considered  ha- 
vened  in  still  water,  with  the  promised  land  of  matri- 
mony in  sight.  But  it  was  to  toss  in  storms  for  many 
months  more.  Roland  desired  their  engagement  to 
remain  secret,  and  Manon  acquiesced  as  before,  exer- 
cising her  own  love  of  openness  by  writing  him  the 
history  of  her  past  tender  passages  with  La  Blancherie 
and  De  Sevelinges.  She  had  to  send  to  Sophie  for  the 
documents  in  these  cases,  and  invent  a  pretext  for  so 
doing.  Her  way  was  not  rose-strewn.  Sophie  was 
vaguely  jealous  and  suspicious;  she  felt  that  Manon 
was  less  communicative,  less  affectionate,  less  absorbed 
in  her  than  she  used  to  be,  and  reproached  her  friend, 
while  Roland  was  retrospectively  jealous  of  his  prede- 
cessors in  his  betrothed's  thoughts,  and  actively  jeal- 
ous of  L.  F.,  as  he  is  called  in  the  letters  to  Sophie,  the 
giovane  in  those  to  Roland.  This  young  man,  of  about 
Manon's  age,  was  the  pupil  and  apprentice  of  her 
father.  He  Hved  with  the  Phlipons,  and  soon  sacri- 
ficed at  Manon's  shrine,  a  hopeless  but  fervent  devo- 
tee. His  goddess  treated  him  leniently,  like  a  great 
boy,  scolded  and  laughed  at  him,  lent  him  good  books, 
administered  medicine  and  advice  when  he  was  ill, 
mended  his  clothes  and  his  manners,  and  tried  to  keep 
him  from  following  in  her  father's  descending  foot- 
steps. 

182 


COURTSHIP  AND   MARRIAGE  183 

It  was  incomprehensible  to  Roland  that  she  could  be 
so  kind  to  one  who  was  madly  in  love  with  her,  who 
raged  and  pleaded,  threatened  to  kill  himself  and 
Roland,  and  who  sometimes  diluted  his  sorrows  in  dis- 
sipation. No  man,  but  every  woman,  will  understand 
the  girl's  complex  feelings  towards  this  unhappy  boy, 
and  comprehend  her  indulgence  and  commiseration. 
L.  F.'s  perfect  disinterestedness,  and  his  frank  aban- 
donment to  passion,  threw  into  high  relief  the  pru- 
dence and  uneasy  self-love  of  Roland.  ''Ah  !  mon  amiy 
comme  on  aime  a  vingt  arts  /"  Manon  heedlessly  wrote 
him,  hardly  a  grateful  reflection  to  her  cautious  be- 
trothed. Nor  was  the  project  of  the  Besnards  calcu- 
lated to  soothe  him;  they  found  an  easy  solution  of  the 
Phlipons'  domestic  difficulties  in  a  marriage  between 
Manon  and  L.  F,,  an  "inept"  notion  which  Roland's 
fiancee  nevertheless  was  obliged  to  combat. 

An  avowal  of  her  engagement  would  have  greatly 
lightened  her  cares,  but  Roland  held  her  to  her  prom- 
ise. His  own  affairs  were  not  prosperous.  He  was 
discouraged  and  harassed  by  opposition  to  his  reforms, 
and  often  balked  of  results  by  the  inertia  or  the  hos- 
tility of  his  superiors.  His  digestion  was  wretched,  his 
nerves  exasperated,  and  yet  his  demands  on  his  strength 
were  unremitting.  We  are  apt  to  assume  that  nerve- 
strain  and  overwork  are  peculiar  to  our  crowded  life, 
but  the  tasks  of  the  past,  unrelieved  by  material  com- 
forts and  unlightened  by  time-saving  appliances,  ex- 
acted prolonged  mental  tension,  and  consumed  vital 
energy  as  ruthlessly  as  our  own  enterprises. 

Roland's  letters,  shorter  and  fewer  than  his  be- 
trothed's,  occasionally  betray  fatigue  and  irritability. 


i84  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

His  natural  and  not  unamiable  jealousy  of  Manon 
manifests  itself  in  a  peculiarly  unlovable  way:  in  sharp 
criticisms  of  her  friends  and  admirers,  and,  above  all, 
in  animadversions  on  her  father's  behavior.  He  found 
fault  with  Manon  herself  for  what  was  inevitable  in 
her  situation:  for  practically  becoming  her  father's  ser- 
vant, for  doing  kindly  offices  to  sick  neighbors.  He 
assumed  a  tone  of  aggravating  superiority  to  all  her 
little  world.  Much  of  this  ^^picotage"  (pecking),  as 
Manon  called  it  (in  postnuptial  days),  was  really  in- 
spired by  solicitude  for  her  health,  and  the  spirited  girl 
received  it  with  submissive  sweetness,  and  answered 
it  with  apologies  and  explanations.  Firm  and  rather 
imperious  with  her  own  family,  to  Roland  she  was  all 
tender  deference.  She  learned  early  in  the  game  of 
love  that  irrefutable  arguments  and  eloquent  pleading 
were  ineff"ective  compared  with  an  affectionate  mes- 
sage, or  a  little  wail  of  loneliness  or  longing.  Her  let- 
ters are  not  often  playful,  her  situation  was  too  strained 
for  sportiveness,  but  they  are  ingenious  in  their  divers 
expressions  of  affection.  "1  love  you,  you  are  dear 
to  me,  tell  me  so  in  your  turn,"  was  never  set  to  more 
varied  melodies.  This  literary  art,  if  literary  art  it  is, 
had  become  so  natural  through  constant  exercise  that 
feeling  flowed  instinctively  into  form.  The  child  had 
lisped  in  clear-cut  prose,  the  maiden  loved  in  lucent 
musical  phrase.  It  was  said  of  Madame  Roland  that 
she  had  the  art  of  making  all  that  she  did  appear  to  be 
the  work  of  nature,  as  if  such  consummate  art  were 
not  in  itself  largely  nature's  gift. 

In  any  case,  her  letters  must  have  been  a  consolation 
and  a  stimulus  to  a  morose  and  doubting  lover.     Ro- 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  185 

land  meantime  had  begun  to  take  his  engagement  seri- 
ously. He  hired  a  house  at  Amiens,  close  to  the  clois- 
ter of  Saint  Denis,  which  was  used  as  a  cemetery;  it 
would  have  seemed  a  lugubrious  residence  to  an  out- 
sider, but  "it  will  be  the  cottage  of  Philemon  and 
Baucis,"  "you  can  make  a  temple  of  it,"  Roland 
wrote.  More  prosaic  details  followed:  he  had  enough 
house  and  personal  linen  for  two  years,  table-silver 
for  eight  persons,  two  soup-spoons;  no  other  house- 
hold stuff.  Manon's  trousseau  preoccupied  him.  She 
must  dress  well;  at  least  like  other  people.  It  was 
well  enough  for  him  to  play  the  Quaker.  "I  can  be 
what  I  really  am;  it  is  enough  for  me  to  be  what  I 
wish  to  be;  but  you,  my  wife,  must  be  what  you  should 
be."  The  contemner  of  irksome  conventions  pre- 
served them  for  his  womenfolk.  This  imperfectly 
emancipated  reformer  held  that  he  could  cast  off  his 
cravat,  but  madame  must  retain  her  neckerchief. 
To  this  mademoiselle  yielded  a  charmed  assent.  She 
was  glad  to  reduce  her  wardrobe  to  the  minimum,  and 
planned  to  sell  her  mother's  jewels,  "for  since  she  had 
hoped  to  possess  Cornelia's  some  day  she  had  just 
despised  them."  Her  Roman  met  Roland's  Greek 
(May  11).  While  waiting  for  the  temple  and  the 
Gracchan  ornaments,  however,  it  was  indispensable 
to  conciliate  a  father  who  was  Roman  only  in  his 
severity. 

When  his  daughter's  dower  was  finally  wrung  from 
the  protesting  M.  Phlipon,  he  incontinently  invited  her 
to  leave  his  house.  Terrified  at  the  scandal  this  would 
cause,  Manon  wrote  Roland,  who  suggested,  as  a  last 
move,   that   she   might   tell   her   father  that   she  was 


1 86  MANON   PHLIPON  ROLAND 

affianced,  and  expecting  to  be  married  speedily.  This 
magnanimous  concession  was  clogged  by  a  hard  condi- 
tion— she  must  not  reveal  the  name  of  her  betrothed, 
but  explain  that  for  family  and  business  reasons  the 
bridegroom-elect  was  obliged  to  remain  incognito  for 
the  present. 

Manon  in  reply  urged  that  her  father  would  cer- 
tainly suspect  him  of  being  the  coy  lover,  and  that  the 
secret  would  be  as  well  kept  if  M.  Phlipon  were  trusted 
wholly.  By  this  time  Roland  had  begun  to  waver  and 
to  regret  what  he  had  advised.  His  letter  practically 
retracting  this  permission  arrived  too  late;  it  was 
crossed  by  a  rapturous  missive  from  his  fiancee. 

"Kiss  my  letter,  tremble  with  joy;  my  father  is 
satisfied,  he  esteems  you,  he  loves  me.  We  shall  all 
be  happy !  Paix,  salut,  amitie,  joie  par  toute  la  terre. 
.  .  .  Mon  cher  maitre,  listen  to  my  story.  ...  I  was 
saying  then — my  faith,  I  don't  know  what  I  was  say- 
ing." A  calmer  narrative  of  facts  followed  these  in- 
troductory transports.  Tactful  Mademoiselle  Des- 
portes,  la  precheusey  as  the  lovers  called  her,  prepared 
the  recalcitrant  papa  for  this  revelation.  After  her 
gentle  emollient  sermon  to  soften  his  heart,  came  the 
coup  de  theatre.  The  salon  door  was  thrown  open,  and 
Manon  threw  herself,  weeping,  at  her  father's  feet. 
Neither  Greuze  nor  Rousseau  could  have  arranged  a 
more  touching  scene  for  a  people  with  whom  emotion 
spontaneously  seeks  dramatic  expression. 

"Overwhelm  me  with  your  anger,  if  I  have  deserved 
it,"  sobbed  the  kneeling  girl,  "but  do  not  hate  me!" 
M.  Phlipon  was  very  naturally  silent  and  bewildered. 
Manon  was  stifled  with  sobs.  Mademoiselle  Desportes 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  187 

began  to  explain,  but  the  surprised  M.  Phlipon  for  once 
took  the  centre  of  the  stage.  This  was  his  only  mono- 
logue in  the  long  domestic  drama  in  which  he  sustained 
so  unsympathetic  a  role: 

"Your  proceedings  are  always  very  strange,"  he  said, 
addressing  himself  to  Manon.  "I  can  forgive  your  de- 
mand for  a  settlement  that  the  law  authorizes  you  to 
make,  but  which  wounds  and  offends  me,  which  proves 
that  your  attachment  to  me  is  no  longer  what  it  was, 
and  that  it  has  given  place  to  ingratitude.  To  wish  to 
remain  with  me,  and  yet  to  arrange  your  affairs  as 
though  you  intended  to  leave  me,  is  contradictory. 
All  your  motives  displease  me.  If  you  had  more 
worthy  ones,  I  should  judge  differently,  but  in  that 
case,  why  have  you  concealed  them  ? " 

"What !"  answered  Manon  warmly.  "If  I  had  some 
reason  that  honor  made  me  keep  secret,  would  you 
consider  keeping  it  a  crime?" 

"What  secret  could  you  keep  justly  from  a  father  ?" 

"One  that  had  been  confided  to  me  under  a  promise 
of  secrecy,  because  certain  circumstances  made  it  im- 
possible to  tell  it." 

"This  ambiguity  does  not  impose  on  me;  I  want  to 
see  clearly  into  this;  give  me  a  good  reason  if  you 
have  it,  or  do  not  torment  me  any  more." 

Manon,  who  by  this  time  had  recovered  her  wind, 
replied  by  a  plausible  allocution:  "You  have  declared, 
father,  that  our  settlement  would  appear  perfectly 
natural  if  there  were  any  question  of  my  marrying. 
That  is  exactly  what  it  is  for;  that's  my  secret;  you 
will  soon  know  my  reasons.  Some  one  whose  prefer- 
ence honors  me,  and  flatters  you,  I  am  sure,  has  proved 


1 88  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

his  esteem  for  me  by  making  his  wishes  known  to  me. 
His  only  object  was  to  learn  what  mine  were,  and  if  he 
could  count  on  them.  Some  delicate  precautions  to 
take  with  his  own  family  prevented  him  from  speaking 
to  any  one,  even  from  making  his  declaration  to  you. 
He  swore  me  to  inviolable  secrecy.  From  that  time  I 
felt  that  we  ought  to  put  our  affairs  in  order.  I  thought 
it  was  better  to  arrange  them  between  you  and  me. 
I  resolved  to  induce  you  to  do  so.  On  the  other  hand, 
I  did  not  hide  the  smallness  of  my  fortune.  I  said 
that  I  should  soon  know  how  much  it  was,  for  my 
coming  of  age  would  remind  you  to  tell  me,  but  that 
a  happiness  that  would  straiten  your  means  would 
be  far  from  perfect  for  me.  The  delicacy  and  disin- 
terestedness that  had  guided  this  person  in  all  his 
ideas  inspired  him  to  answer  that  he  was  as  deeply 
interested  as  I  was  in  your  welfare  and  comfort,  and 
that  he  left  to  you  the  use  of  what  would  insure  them. 
BeUeving  as  much  in  his  probity  and  generosity  as  in 
his  other  good  qualities,  I  made  him  a  confession  that 
I  expected  you  to  confirm  some  day  with  as  much  joy 
as  I  felt  then.  You  may  guess  of  whom  I  am  speak- 
ing; it  is  useless  to  name  him.  At  least,  my  cousin 
will  permit  me  not  to  do  so  before  her.  .  .  .'* 

M.  Phlipon,  relieved,  softened,  overjoyed,  caught 
the  orator  in  his  arms,  and  Manon  wept  on  his  breast 
"the  sweetest  tears  she  had  ever  shed  in  her  life." 
Papa  whispered  Roland's  name  in  his  daughter's  ear, 
and  then  assured  Mademoiselle  Desportes  that  his 
future  son-in-law  was  all  that  he  could  wish  for,  and 
that  in  her  choice  he  had  a  new  proof  of  Manon's  wis- 
dom.    He  promised  that  though  her  fortune  was  mod- 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  189 

est,  she  should  have  all  that  belonged  to  him  one  day, 
as  he  should  never  marry.  These  praises  and  prom- 
ises were  offered  in  a  tone  of  such  sincerity  and  fond- 
ness that  Manon  was  convinced  that  he  would  bless 
her  union  with  Roland  "with  all  his  heart." 

She  did  not  forget  to  slip  in  a  word  of  warning  to 
her  fiance  between  her  ecstasies.  In  a  few  days  Ro- 
land would  receive  a  formal  letter  from  her,  to  which 
he  must  send  an  equally  discreet  reply  to  be  shown  to 
papa.  Her  father  had  asked  her  if  Roland  knew  that 
she  was  going  to  tell  him  of  their  engagement,  and 
she  had  answered  that  she  was  authorized  to  do  so. 
This  avowal  and  showing  him  a  letter  from  Roland 
would  affirm  M.  Phlipon's  confidence,  and  insure 
future  peace.  Roland  will  advise  her,  and  she  will 
submit  her  opinion  to  his.  These  prosaic  arrange- 
ments made  Manon  grow  lyrical  again:  "My  loving 
friend,  I  owe  you  all  my  happiness.  How  transported 
you  must  be !  You  give  me  all  that  is  dear  to  me;  you 
give  me  back  a  father's  love,  you  fill  my  heart  with 
all  the  sweetness  that  nature,  virtue,  and  love  can 
bring  to  it.  .  .  .  And  it  is  to  you  whom  I  respect, 
whom  I  esteem,  and  whom  I  cherish  more  than  any- 
thing else  that  I  owe  these  blessings.  Surely  one  never 
dies  of  joy,  since  I  feel  all  this  and  am  still  living." 
(June  27.) 

To  these  effusions  Roland  replied  dryly  and  coldly 
(June  29).  She  had  forced  his  hand,  she  had  told 
his  secret;  her  delicious  wooing  phrases,  her  enchant- 
ments, could  not  juggle  away  the  disagreeable  fact 
that  her  common,  dissipated  old  father  was  now  in 
their  confidence.     "Do  not  write  so  many  pages  to 


I90  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

justify  or  excuse  something  done;  I  shall  not  think  of 
it  any  the  less,  and  I  shall  not  speak  of  it  again.'* 
Only  a  man  very  much  concerned  with  his  own  dignity, 
very  jealous  of  his  authority,  could  have  answered  a 
cry  straight  from  the  heart  with  such  frigid  pettiness, 
to  which  poor  Manon  replied,  in  spite  of  Roland's 
prohibition  by  a  justification  of  her  confession.  At 
least  his  liberty  has  remained  quite  unfettered.  "I 
have  not  arrogated  to  myself  your  right  to  announce 
your  intentions,  or  to  hasten  the  time  when  you  pro- 
pose to  do  so." 

This  pained  Roland  and  he  expressed  his  distress  at 
the  same  time,  forbidding  his  bonne  amie  to  add  to  it 
by  alluding  to  its  cause  (July  3).  He  maintained  an 
injured  attitude  all  through  the  summer.  M.  Phlipon 
was  a  perennial  source  of  complaint;  his  bad  health 
was  also  a  cause  of  offense.  How  will  he  be  able  to 
get  on  without  the  constant  care  that  his  daughter  is 
obliged  to  give  him  ?  What  does  he  intend  to  do .? 
What  arrangements  has  he  made  for  the  future .? 
(August  5) 

Manon,  now  general  drudge  and  occasional  sick- 
nurse,  leaves  her  pots  and  kettles,  puts  down  her 
needle,  and  answers  gently,  reasonably,  with  a  noble 
patience,  these  querulous  questionings.  She  shows  a 
maternal  indulgence  to  each  fretful,  carping  arraign- 
ment. Pauvre  ami,  how  ill  and  worn  he  must  be  to 
be  so  cross  and  exacting,  how  much  need  he  has  of 
love  and  consideration.  The  more  fractious  Roland, 
the  more  amiable  she.  That  sweetness  (of  which  she 
wrote  when  a  girl  of  fifteen)  "that  men  are  accused  of 
loving  because  it  is  so  much  needed  in  dealing  with 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  191 

them,"   stood   her  in  good   stead   during  this   dreary 
stage  of  her  life-journey. 

But  though  Griselda  was  amiable  she  was  sad, 
and  her  sadness  penetrated  Roland's  hard  self-love. 
Finally,  he  wrote  to  M.  Phlipon,  asking  in  good  set 
terms  for  his  daughter's  hand,  but  still  requesting  se- 
crecy. M.  Phlipon  found  the  demand  glacial,  haughty, 
and  even  lacking  in  respect  to  his  daughter.  The  re- 
quest for  secrecy  excited,  not  unreasonably,  his  suspi- 
cions; it  was  not  in  such  clandestine  manner  that  the 
tradesmen  of  the  cite  made  their  offers.  Manon  argued, 
coaxed,  until  he  yielded  an  ungracious  "He  is  a  de- 
serving man,  I  admit.  He  suits  you  very  well.  Let 
things  go  on.  I  won't  prevent  them."  This  negative 
consent  was  all  she  could  extract  (August  29).  When 
a  little  later  the  attack  was  renewed,  he  repulsed  it 
with  a  dry  "He  was  in  no  hurry  to  write  to  me,  I  am 
in  no  hurry  to  answer  him;  besides,  you  are  not  asked 
for  in  this  letter.  It  is  obscure.  I  don't  understand 
it."  With  the  obstinacy  of  a  weak  nature,  he  stood 
by  this  decision.  Manon,  pushed  to  the  wall,  used 
the  last  argument  of  women — hysterics.  Frightened, 
not  touched,  he  promised  to  write,  but  before  doing  so 
asked  to  see  all  the  letters  Roland  had  sent  her  since 
he  left  Paris.  To  her  astonished  question:  "What  is 
your  motive  in  making  such  a  demand?"  M.  Phlipon 
answered  airily:  "It's  a  caprice  that  I  have.  If  you 
refuse  me  this  satisfaction,  you  can  no  longer  count 
on  me  for  anything."  Such  was  his  ukase,  coupled 
with  the  request  that  she  should  leave  the  house.  De- 
cidedly, he  was  not  conformable,  le  pere  Phlipon.  To 
this   proposed   eviction   Manon   repUed  with  dignity: 


192  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

"I  shall  not  go.  You  have  no  right  to  send  me  out 
of  your  house.  I  ought  not  to  leave  it  except  under 
a  husband's  protection,  and  I  shall  not  leave  it  in  any 
other  way.  I  have  not  lived  here  for  twenty-five 
years  honorably  and  decently,  to  go  away  in  a  man- 
ner that  will  shame  and  disgrace  you.''  (September  i.) 
Papa  made  no  answer,  but  took  "the  key  of  the  fields," 
and  sedulously  avoided  Manon. 

Miserable  days  followed  for  her,  bruised  between 
the  impact  of  two  egotisms,  her  happiness  depending 
on  a  father  and  a  lover  equally  self-centred,  who  con- 
sidered their  own  susceptibilities  as  more  precious  than 
Manon's  peace.  Finally,  the  tears  and  prayers  of 
Tante  Besnard  and  the  weakness  following  an  attack 
of  illness  again  softened  the  resolve  of  the  terrible 
parent,  and  he  consented  to  write  an  answer  to  his 
elusive  son-in-law-to-be  (September  4). 

"Mr.: 

"Questions  of  interest  cannot  certainly  hurt  the  busi- 
ness in  hand.  My  daughter  has  recently  provided  for 
them,  having  used  the  rights  she  acquired  by  coming 
of  age  three  months  ago  to  oblige  me  to  give  an  exact 
account  before  a  notary  of  the  property  of  her  dead 
mother.  This  business  is  now  irrevocably  settled. 
You  have  done  me  the  honor,  Mr.,  to  write  to  me;  I 
ought  to  have  that  of  answering  you.  But  first  hav- 
ing asked  my  daughter  to  communicate  certain  things 
to  me,  that  she  has  very  dryly,  and  even,  I  dare  to 
say,  very  roughly  refused  to  do,  this  decides  me  to 
tell  you  with  regret  that  she  can  freely  enjoy  the  privi- 
lege of  her  majority  to  accelerate  the  termination  of 
this  affair." 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  193 

Truly  a  very  impertinent  and  paltry  answer  to  a 
rather  stiff  and  condescending  demand !  To  the  self- 
righteous  Roland  "it  revealed  a  soul  that  he  could 
not  understand,  and  that  filled  him  with  horror." 
Imagine  the  feeHngs  of  King  Cophetua,  if,  after  hav- 
ing decided  to  honor  the  beggar-maid  with  his  hand, 
her  disreputable  old  father  had  received  his  royal 
request  with  a  pied  de  nez. 

Roland  could  not  avenge  this  insult  on  the  dishon- 
ored head  of  the  impossible  M.  Phlipon,  but  M.  Phli- 
pon's  child  was  convenient,  and  on  hers  were  poured 
out  the  vials  of  Thales's  just  wrath  (September  5, 
1779).  The  awful  abyss  between  his  family  and  a 
creature  like  Manon's  father  was  suddenly  revealed  to 
him.  He  had  tried  to  realize  it  before,  but  could  not. 
What  spiritual  vileness,  and  what  a  horrible  hand- 
writing !  What  baseness  of  character,  what  a  low 
nature  were  betraj^ed  in  every  line!  Even  the  abbre- 
viation of  "Monsieur"  (common  enough  in  business 
correspondence)  was  fraught  with  sinister  significance. 
Roland  plunged  her  father's  unpolished  stylus  into 
Manon's  naked  heart,  and  then  turned  it  round.  "I 
cannot  defend  myself  against  an  attachment  that  de- 
livers me  up  to  you  without  reserve,  and  which  even 
in  this  moment  is  graven  on  my  heart  with  the  deepest 
respect,  but  your  father — O,  my  friend,  your  father  ! 
The  very  thought  of  him  gnaws  me.  Black  presenti- 
ments trouble  and  overwhelm  me.  His  character,  his 
conduct  will  become  a  living  disgrace  to  my  people, 
and  will  change  their  tender  regard  into  a  vulture  that 
will  ceaselessly  devour  my  heart.  No,  my  personal 
unhappiness  would  be  nothing,  but  it  is  frightful  to 


194  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

think  of  your  situation.  I  reproach  myself  for  it  with 
bitterness  of  self-disgust.  I  am  oppressed  with  deadly 
sadness." 

Two  days  after  a  second  vial  was  unsealed.  Manon 
had  been  culpably  indulgent  to  this  lost  soul  of  a 
parent.  Her  devotion  to  an  unworthy  object  awak- 
ened Roland  to  his  own  lack  of  duty  to  his  relatives 
in  allying  them  with  a  Monsieur  Phlipon.  It  also  re- 
vives memories  of  their  loving  care  of  him  when  he 
returned,  frayed  and  spent,  from  his  wanderings.  His 
contemplated  ingratitude  to  them  filled  him  with 
tardy  remorse.  His  secretiveness  towards  them 
weighed  on  him.  To  lighten  his  heart  he  sends  them 
Monsieur  Phlipon's  monstrous  missive  with  an  account 
of  the  whole  wretched  business  (September  7). 

To  this  assault  Manon  opposed  a  saintly  resigna- 
tion. Her  filial  virtue  had  furnished  the  scourge  for 
her  punishment.  She  released  Roland  from  any  en- 
gagement to  her,  congratulated  him  on  his  family  ad- 
vantages, and  herself  on  having  been  the  means  of 
recalling  his  obligations  to  him,  approved  his  pro- 
ceedings, and  ended  by  asking  him  to  remain  her 
friend  always  (September  9).  Ten  days  later  Ro- 
land answered  Monsieur  (or,  rather,  as  the  outraged 
writer  addressed  it  vengefully,  "Mr.")  Phlipon's  letter 
in  a  superior  and  stately  manner  calculated  to  infuri- 
ate the  meekest  of  mankind.  In  it,  while  grinding 
Mr.  Phlipon  to  earth,  and  expressing  his  esteem 
and  respect  for  his  daughter,  Roland  haughtily 
withdrew  the  offer  of  his  hesitating  hand  (Septem- 
ber 19). 

All  through  September  and  October  Manon  wavered 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  195 

between  her  conviction  that  she  ought  to  leave  her 
father  and  seek  some  means  of  earning  her  living  and 
her  instinctive  affection  for  her  capricious  parent,  who 
at  times  was  undeniably  appealing  and  attractive. 
Her  struggles  between  prudence  and  generosity  per- 
plexed and  worried  Roland,  who  remained  untouched 
by  a  manly  and  apologetic  letter  written  by  the  prodi- 
gal father  in  a  remorseful  moment  (September  23). 
"Esteem  and  friendship  remained  to  them,"  but  neither 
seemed  satisfied  with  these  reasonable  conditions. 
Roland  discovered  "that  philosophy  which  he  thought 
good  for  everything  was  good  for  nothing,"  and  Manon 
found  the  path  of  duty  rather  tortuous,  as  well  as  steep 
and  hard.  Too  sensitive  and  affectionate  to  follow 
reason  calmly,  too  logical  and  reflective  to  abandon 
herself  to  feeling,  she  appeared  inconsistent  and  ca- 
pricious to  a  colder,  more  self-centred  nature. 

The  long  struggle  between  reason  and  instinct  finally 
ended  in  the  sad  victory  of  the  former.  Manon  hired 
a  small  apartment  in  the  convent  of  the  Congregation, 
and  went  back  to  live  with  her  old  schoolmistresses, 
the  nuns  (November  6,  1779). 

Convents  offered  inexpensive  and  dignified  retreats 
for  women  of  small  means  who  wished  or  were  obliged 
to  lead  a  simple  life  aside  from,  though  not  outside  of, 
the  world.  Orphaned  girls  with  slender  dowers,  re- 
duced widows,  decaj^ed  gentlewomen,  took  rooms  in  a 
religious  house,  where  they  received  visits  and  enter- 
tained in  a  subdued  way.  Great  ladies,  who  were 
other-worldly  as  well  as  worldly,  retired  to  a  nunnery 
for  a  retreat  during  Lent,  or  when  in  mourning.  Some- 
times romance  crept  into  the  cloister  and  the  heroine 


196  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

of  a  love-afFair  or  a  scandal  was  stealthily  watched  in 
chapel  and  garden  by  pupils  and  pensionnaires. 

The  hard  and  worldly  Madame  de  Boismorel  had 
mourned  the  gentle  "Sage"  in  a  fashionable  convent, 
and  Madame  Recamier's  receptions  at  the  Abbaye 
au  Bois  are  an  example  of  the  discreet  yet  animated 
social  life  that  throve  in  semimonastic  seclusion. 
This  curious  little  world  that  mingled  its  gay  chatter 
with  the  nuns'  canticles,  and  the  chypre  of  its  casso- 
lettes with  the  mystic  fragrance  of  incense,  was  humor- 
ously and  amiably  sketched  by  Victor  Hugo  in  Les 
Miserables.  Even  now  the  tourist  seeking  Lafayette's 
grave,  or  he  who  follows  the  trail  of  Jean  Valjean  on 
the  dark  chase  from  the  Gorbeau  House  to  the  nun- 
nery of  the  Petit  Picpus,  will  find  the  modern  counter- 
parts of  these  ancient  lady-boarders  strolling  in  the 
old  walled  garden  and  chatting  in  the  convent  parlor. 

The  Congregation  was  a  second  home  to  Manon. 
There  she  hterally  fell  into  the  arms  of  her  devoted 
Sister  Agathe,  "the  plaintive  dove"  of  her  school-days, 
and  there,  though  lonely  and  sad,  she  enjoyed  the 
tranquillity  so  lacking  in  the  house  on  the  Pont  Neuf. 
Thrifty  of  her  time  and  her  money  alike,  Manon 
planned  a  rule  of  daily  life  after  she  had  established 
her  few  penates  "under  her  roof  of  snow,"  for  she 
lodged  very  near  heaven.  Her  expenses  were  calcu- 
lated to  a  sou.  She  bought  and  prepared  her  own 
food,  and  Spartan  fare  it  was — "beans,  rice,  and  pota- 
toes cooked  with  salt  and  butter"  cost  little  money 
and  small  pains.  She  went  out  twice  a  week:  once  to 
visit  her  relatives,  once  to  look  after  her  father's 
wardrobe  and  household.     She  kept  the  early  hours  of 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  197 

the  convent.  The  morning,  after  making  her  own 
toilet  and  that  of  her  apartment,  she  devoted  to  geog- 
raphy and  the  ItaUan  language,  studies  that  she  hoped 
to  teach  later.  Then  she  took  up  a  favorite  book  **to 
rest  her  mind" — Jean  Jacques,  Montaigne,  or  Horace. 
The  afternoon  was  given  to  needlework  (when  she 
could  resist  the  temptation  to  read)  and  a  walk  in  the 
convent  garden.  Under  the  great  hme-trees,  where 
she  used  to  stroll  with  Sophie's  arm  around  her  waist, 
she  loved  to  dream,  to  remember,  and  sometimes  to 
weep.  Music  and  a  brief  visit  from  Sister  Agatha 
filled  the  short  evenings.  There  were  a  few  calls  to 
receive  and  return  from  the  boarders  in  the  convent, 
visits  from  friends  at  the  grating,  and  occasionally  a 
little  musical  party  in  one  of  the  cells. 

Manon  often  spent  whole  days  almost  alone.  "My 
taste  for  soHtude  is  becoming  a  passion.  In  satisfying 
it  I  can  think  of  you  without  distractions,"  she  wrote 
the  tepid  Thales  (December  4,  1779).  The  cessation 
of  petty  vexations  and  sordid  anxieties  lent  her  mental 
leisure  to  review  the  few  joys  of  her  brief  betrothal, 
her  bright  visions  of  the  future,  now  so  dun  and  drab. 
Her  young  energy  revolted  against  a  passive  accep- 
tance of  dreariness.  She  would  not  resign  herself  to  a 
flat  and  flavorless  existence.  She  would  fight,  work, 
deserve  felicity,  even  if  she  never  attained  it.  In  the 
peace  of  the  dove-cote  her  aff'ection  for  Roland,  long 
dominated  by  lacerated  pride  and  the  melancholy 
realization  of  how  much  he  lacked  of  the  ideal  lover 
of  her  maiden  fancies,  deepened,  and  grew  in  tender- 
ness and  solemnity.  In  an  atmosphere  of  consecra- 
tion to  an  ideal,  of  little  daily  acts  of  self-sacrifice, 


198  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

Manon,  always  impressionable,  always  vibratingly  sen- 
sitive to  any  demand  upon  her,  fell  in  love  a  second 
time.  Thales,  the  philosopher,  the  impeccable  wise 
man,  was  no  more,  and  in  his  place  in  her  heart  was  a 
weaker,  erring,  irritable  person  with  some  very  infuri- 
ating characteristics,  some  disconcerting  shortcomings, 
who  in  a  mysterious  way  was  more  lovable  than  the 
sinless  Sage  of  yesterday.  To  love  him  now  that  fate 
and  Papa  Phlipon  had  parted  them  forever  seemed  an 
act  of  devotion  to  Manon.  Absence,  which  fires  great 
passions  and  extinguishes  little  ones,  also  fosters  illu- 
sions. Memory  is  a  flattering  painter  when  affection 
is  at  her  elbow.  Roland,  unseen  for  many  months, 
took  on  a  diff^erent  aspect;  he  never  seemed  more  de- 
sirable than  when  he  was  inaccessible,  and  Manon 
was  never  so  tender  as  when,  apparently  enfranchised 
by  despair,  she  let  herself  go.  She  ceased  to  demand, 
and  was  content  to  bestow.  Her  letters,  which  had 
been  explanatory  or  apologetic,  but  always  sincere 
efi'orts  to  understand  Roland's  tactics,  his  wavering 
advances,  and  hasty  retreats,  changed  in  tone.  To 
justifications  and  defenses  succeeded  idyls  and  elegies, 
confessions  of  love  and  longing.  She  frankly  accepted 
the  facts  in  the  case.  Her  late  suitor  was  not  really 
separated  from  her  by  pecuniary  embarrassments  and 
social  inequality,  or  even  by  the  iniquity  of  M. 
Phlipon,  but  by  his  own  lack  of  passion  strong  enough 
to  burn  away  the  barriers  between  them.  He  was  not 
to  blame;  he  loved  her  in  the  measure  of  his  ca- 
pacities, and  she  was  content  to  be  the  generous  lover 
who  kisses — metaphorically.  Her  situation  was  in 
some   respects   a   trying  one   for  a  high-spirited  girl. 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  199 

Her  relatives  considered  her  a  victim  of  unrequited  af- 
fection, abandoned  by  a  cold  and  worldly  lover.  She 
accepted  the  role  of  Ariadne  with  perfect  good  temper 
and  an  utter  absence  of  petty  self-love.  She  had  re- 
signed herself  to  being  misunderstood. 

A  friend  (probably  the  same  Madame  Legrand  who 
was  one  of  Marie  Antoinette's  household)  found  Manon 
a  place  at  court.  The  position  was  dependent  on  the 
whim  of  the  Queen,  and  had  been  created  for  her 
amusement;  it  was,  perhaps,  that  of  lectrice,  or  reader. 
The  young  republican  promptly  refused  it.  The  sur- 
prise and  annoyance  of  her  family  and  friends  may  be 
easily  surmised.  Fate  was  disciplining  Manon  as  the 
gymnasiarch  of  Epictetus  trained  the  young  athlete, 
fortifying  her  weakness,  augmenting  her  strength 
through  blows  and  struggles.  Unconsciously,  out  of 
anxiety  and  disappointment  and  disillusion,  the  girl 
was  applying  a  principle,  evolving  a  philosophy  which 
is  the  protest  of  the  mind  against  the  incoherence  and 
cruelty  of  life.  Like  the  artist  who  seeks  to  impose 
law  on  the  disorder  of  nature,  she  opposed  a  mental 
harmony  to  the  discord  of  "an  opaque,  impenetrable, 
miscellaneous  world."  To  essay  the  subjugation  of 
fate  to  the  sway  of  will  and  the  intelligence  compels 
reluctant  admiration  even  when  it  discourages  imita- 
tion, and  predicates  much  self-esteem  and  self-reliance; 
indeed,  she  possessed  both,  but  her  self-esteem  was 
mitigated  by  a  sense  of  personal  responsibility,  and 
was  yoked  with  an  impassioned  loyalty  to  ideals.  If 
her  attitude  was  more  Olympian  than  Promethean, 
and,  consequently,  far  less  sympathetic  in  her  Memoirs, 
in  her  letters  the  torments  and  the  gnawing  of  the 


200  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

insatiable  bird  were  seldom  absent.  Those  addressed 
to  her  timid  and  susceptible  lover  are  frank  capitula- 
tions. "Good-by,  Pride."  "Be  thou  man  or  illusion, 
I  give  myself  up  to  the  feelings  you  inspire  in  me  that 
I  foolishly  believed  I  had  repressed."  "Come!  Be 
forever  under  the  name  of  friend  all  that  thou  canst  be 
to  the  most  tender  and  faithful  heart."  Safe  behind 
the  convent  grating,  reassured  by  distance  and  seclu- 
sion, Manon  dared  to  woo  as  she  would  be  wooed. 
Happy  Roland  !  one  exclaims  in  reading  them,  to  re- 
ceive such  glowing  missives  !  But  Thales,  whose  blood 
was  surely  chilled  by  the  water  which  the  Greek  phi- 
losopher whose  name  he  borrowed  conceived  was  the 
vital  principle,  replied  lukewarmly,  evasively,  to  these 
delicious  yet  maidenly  effusions.  To  Roland  the  state 
of  his  liver  was  far  more  preoccupying  than  the  con- 
dition of  his  heart,  and  he  answered  Manon's  chaste 
Sapphics  with  a  description  of  his  last  bilious  attack, 
enriched  with  realistic  details,  or  with  prudent  advice 
to  conciliate  her  relatives,  as  the  only  real  joys  of  life 
are  to  be  found  among  one's  own  people.  All  Roland's 
letters  are  full  of  reference  to  his  business  perplexities, 
and  sometimes  his  lack  of  funds.  He  was  suffering  at 
once  from  weak  health,  poverty,  and  a  severe  disap- 
pointment. In  December  he  was  tempted  to  resign 
his  post.  He  had  lost  the  protection  of  Turgot;  Godi- 
not,  his  cousin  and  protector,  had  retired  from  the 
inspectorship  of  Rouen,  and  Roland  fully  expected  to 
succeed  him,  but  the  position  was  given  to  a  less  able 
but  more  popular  man.  In  addition  to  these  causes 
of  anxiety  Roland  was  afraid  of  Manon,  afraid  of 
her    empire    over    him,    of  her    "tumultuous"    tem- 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  201 

perament,    of  her    strong   will    and    her   independent 
character. 

In  spite  of  her  professions,  of  the  deference  she  had 
always  shown  him  and  his  opinions,  he  divined  the 
energy  and  persistence  that  underlay  her  apparent 
docihty.  He  realized  that  she  had  managed  her 
father,  dominated  her  relatives,  and  mastered  an  in- 
subordinate and  passionate  lover.  These  were  not 
guaranties  of  passive  obedience  to  a  nervous,  suscepti- 
ble bachelor  in  delicate  health.  Then,  too,  in  spite  of 
his  own  scorn  of  restraints,  Roland  adhered  to  the 
conventions  that  his  age  and  nation  imposed  on  young 
girls,  and  Manon  had  emancipated  herself  from  many 
of  them.  The  bonds  of  custom  galled  Manon's  high 
spirit;  the  vast  opportunities  that  Paris  offered  her 
for  study  and  culture  tantalized  her.  In  a  rebellious 
mood  she  wrote  Sophie:  "Sometimes  I  am  tempted  to 
put  on  breeches  and  a  hat  to  obtain  freedom,"  and, 
again:  "I  ought  to  have  been  a  Spartan  or  a  Roman 
woman,  or  at  least  a  Frenchman.  Then  I  should  have 
chosen  for  my  country  the  republic  of  letters,  or  one 
of  those  republics  where  one  can  be  a  man,  and  obey 
only  the  laws.  .  .  .  Ah  !  Liberty,  idol  of  strong  souls, 
aliment  of  virtues,  for  me  you  are  but  a  name !"  (Feb- 
ruary 5,  1776).  Manon  had  enfranchised  herself  to 
a  certain  degree.  Even  before  the  death  of  Mignonne 
she  constantly  went  out  alone  to  walk,  to  church,  or 
to  shop.  Disguised  as  a  servant  seeking  a  situation, 
she  had  gone  to  the  lodging  of  her  father's  mistress  to 
confirm  her  suspicions  of  his  misconduct.  Humbly 
dressed  like  a  girl  of  the  people,  she  had  visited  the 
poor  and   found  it   a  dangerous  proceeding.     During 


202  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

her  brief  engagement,  in  spite  of  her  affectionate  pro- 
testations of  submission,  she  had  carried  affairs  with 
a  high  hand.  Roland  feared  for  his  prestige.  Could 
he  maintain  his  superiority  in  daily  contact  with  so 
much  purpose  ?  So  he  sought  safety  in  flight  and  in 
avoiding  contact  with  this  invading  personality.  No, 
he  could  not  visit  Manon  (as  she  suggested  December 
13,  1779).  He  should  only  pass  through  Paris,  arriv- 
ing late  in  the  evening  of  the  28th  of  December;  he 
expected  to  leave  early  the  next  morning  to  visit  his 
brother,  the  Benedictine  monk,  at  Longpont,  He 
should  not  return  to  Paris  until  two  weeks  later.  He 
was  deeply  affected  by  his  disappointment  and  the 
conduct  of  those  he  thought  were  his  friends;  all  things 
were  awry  with  him;  he  feared  that  he  was  going  to 
be  very  ill,  but  he  cared  little,  he  was  tired  of  the 
wretchedness  of  this  world,  and  was  quite  willing  to 
do  now  what  one  must  do  some  time,  sooner  or  later. 
Of  course  this  wail  afforded  Manon  an  opportunity 
to  play  the  role,  very  earnestly  and  sweetly,  of  con- 
soler, and,  of  course,  soon  after  Roland  found  himself 
in  the  nuns'  bare  httle  parlor  before  the  grating,  and 
behind  it  Manon,  pale  and  tearful,  "triumphed  in  her 
retreat,"  as  the  captive  Roland  sorrowfully  acknowl- 
edged. She  was  so  lonely  and  unhappy;  she  believed, 
or  seemed  to  believe,  that  his  family  had  arranged  a 
marriage  for  him,  and  that  he  was  hesitating  as  usual 
between  his  affection  for  her  and  his  desire  to  satisfy 
them.  "I  need  so  much  that  you  should  be  happy," 
she  wrote  him,  the  next  day  (January  20,  1780),  that 
she  could,  like  Regulus,  beg  him  to  ignore  her  own 
fate  if  his  felicity  required  it.  The  next  paragraph  of 
her  letter  softens  the   sternness   of  her  comparison: 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  203 

"Evening  is  the  most  favorable  time  for  us  to  see 
each  other,  even  on  Sundays." 

Poor,  prudent  Roland !  He  struggled  no  more. 
He  again  offered  his  hand  formally  through  his  brother, 
Dom  Pierre,  and  a  few  days  afterwards  (February  4, 
1780)  there  was  a  quiet  wedding  at  the  church  of 
Saint  Barthelemy.  The  dear  little  Uncle  Bimont  was 
the  officiating  priest,  and  Selincourt,  Sophie's  brother, 
one  of  the  witnesses.  The  bridegroom,  having  finally 
decided  to  sacrifice  himself,  was  no  niggard  victim. 
In  his  marriage  contract  he  dowered  his  wife  with 
six  thousand  francs,  in  order  to  swell  her  scanty  por- 
tion to  a  respectable  size,  though  his  own  affairs  were 
far  from  prosperous. 

Her  courtship  and  marriage  are  laconically  recounted 
in  Madame  Roland's  Memoirs.  "Nearly  five  years 
[in  reality  three]  after  I  had  made  his  acquaintance  he 
[Roland]  made  me  a  declaration  of  love.  /  was  not 
indifferent  to  ity  because  I  respected  him  more  than  any 
one  I  had  ever  known,  but  I  had  noticed  that  both  he 
and  his  family  were  not  insensible  to  appearances.  I 
told  him  frankly  that  his  suit  honored  me,  and  that  I 
could  consent  with  pleasure,  but  that  I  did  not  believe 
that  I  was  a  good  match  for  him.  I  then  explained 
to  him  unreservedly  our  financial  condition.  We  were 
ruined.  I  had  saved,  by  asking  for  a  settlement  from 
my  father  at  the  risk  of  incurring  his  dislike,  an  annual 
income  of  five  hundred  livres,  which,  with  my  ward- 
robe, was  all  that  was  left  of  the  apparent  affluence 
in  which  I  had  been  brought  up.  My  father  was 
young.  His  indiscretions  might  tempt  him  to  make 
debts,  which  his  inability  to  pay  would  render  dis- 
graceful.    He    might    contract    an    unfortunate    mar- 


204  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

riage,  and  add  to  these  evils  children  who  would  bear 
my  name  in  wretched  poverty,  etc.,  etc.  I  was  too 
proud  to  expose  myself  to  the  ill  will  of  a  family  which 
would  not  feel  honored  by  an  alliance  with  me,  or  to 
depend  on  the  generosity  of  a  husband  to  whom  I 
should  bring  only  vexations.  I  advised  M.  Roland, 
as  a  third  person  would  have  done,  and  tried  to  dis- 
suade him  from  thinking  of  me.  He  persisted;  I  was 
touched,  and  consented  that  he  should  take  the  necessary 
steps  with  my  father^  but  as  he  [Roland]  preferred  to 
express  himself  in  writing,  it  was  settled  that  he  should 
treat  the  matter  by  letter  on  his  return  home,  and  that 
during  the  remainder  of  his  stay  in  Paris  we  should 
see  each  other  daily.  I  considered  him  as  the  being 
to  whom  I  should  unite  my  fate,  and  I  became  at- 
tached to  him.  As  soon  as  he  returned  to  Amiens  he 
wrote  my  father  to  explain  his  plans  and  wishes. 

"My  father  found  the  letter  dry.  He  did  not  like 
M.  Roland's  stiffness,  and  he  did  not  care  for  a  son-in- 
law  who  was  a  strict  man,  and  whom  he  felt  to  be 
a  censor.  He  answered  with  harshness  and  imperti- 
nence, and  showed  his  reply  to  me  after  he  had  sent 
it.  /  immediately  formed  a  resolution.  I  wrote  to 
M.  Roland  that  the  event  had  justified  only  too  well 
my  fears  in  regard  to  my  father,  that  I  would  not 
occasion  him  further  mortifications,  and  that  I  begged 
him  to  abandon  his  project.  I  announced  to  my 
father  what  his  conduct  had  obliged  me  to  do.  I 
added  that  after  that  he  need  not  be  surprised  if  I 
entered  a  new  situation  and  retired  to  a  convent.  But 
as  I  knew  he  had  some  pressing  debts,  I  left  him  the 
portion  of  plate  that  belonged  to  me  to  meet  them. 


COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE  205 

T  hired  a  little  apartment  in  the  convent  of  the  Con- 
gregation, to  which  I  retreated,  firmly  resolved  to 
limit  my  wants  by  my  means.  I  did  so."  A  short 
description  of  her  ascetic  life  follows.  I  take  up  the 
narrative  where  Roland  enters  it  again.  "M.  Roland, 
astonished  and  grieved,  continued  to  write  to  me  like 
a  man  who  had  not  ceased  to  love  me,  but  who  had 
been  wounded  by  my  father's  conduct.  He  came  at 
the  end  of  five  or  six  months,  grew  ardent  when  he 
saw  me  behind  the  grating  [in  the  convent  parlor], 
where,  however,  /  had  kept  a  prosperous  air.  He 
wished  me  to  leave  the  cloister,  offered  his  hand  again 
to  me,  and  urged  me  through  his  brother,  the  Bene- 
dictine monk,  to  accept  it.  /  reflected  deeply  on  what  I 
ought  to  do.  I  did  not  hide  from  myself  that  a  man 
less  than  forty-five  years  of  age  would  not  have  waited 
several  months  to  try  to  make  me  change  my  mind, 
and  /  readily  allowed  that  this  had  reduced  my  feelings 
to  a  degree  which  left  nothing  to  spare  for  illusion.  I 
considered,  on  the  other  hand,  that  this  persistence, 
also  the  result  of  reflection,  assured  me  that  I  was 
appreciated,  and  that  if  he  [Roland]  had  conquered  his 
dread  of  the  incidental  annoyances,  which  marriage 
with  me  might  occasion,  I  should  be  so  much  the  more 
convinced  of  his  esteem,  which  I  need  be  at  no  pains 
to  justify.  Finally,  if  marriage  was,  as  I  believed  it 
to  be,  a  stringent  bond,  an  association  in  which  gen- 
erally the  wife  takes  charge  of  the  happiness  of  two 
individuals,  would  it  not  be  better  for  me  to  exercise 
my  capacities  and  my  courage  in  this  honorable  task 
than  in  the  isolation  in  which  I  lived  t " 


CHAPTER    X 
DOMI  MANSIT—EUDORA 

Madame  Roland's  correspondence  during  the  years 
that  followed  her  marriage  forms  an  almost  comic  con- 
trast to  that  of  her  girlhood.  One  would  hardly  be- 
lieve, looking  over  the  letters  of  her  early  married  life, 
that  she  possessed  Hterary  or  intellectual  interests. 
The  large  horizon  of  her  youth  narrowed  to  the  walls 
of  her  house,  her  occupations  to  the  copying  and  cor- 
rection of  Roland's  manuscripts,  the  care  of  her  baby, 
and  the  training  of  her  servants.  This  correspondence, 
however,  fills  a  lacuna  in  her  biography,  as  the  Me- 
moirs pass  very  cursorily  over  this  period  of  her  life. 

The  Rolands  spent  the  first  year  of  their  marriage 
in  Paris.  They  took  furnished  rooms  in  the  Hotel  de 
Lyon,  in  the  rue  Saint  Jacques.  Roland  had  been 
offered,  and  had  accepted,  a  position  in  the  govern- 
ment offices  at  Paris,  to  arrange  a  general  recasting 
of  the  regulations  that  controlled  the  national  manu- 
factures. He  strenuously  opposed  most  of  these  regu- 
lations, for,  in  spite  of  a  few  concessions,  they  were  as 
hostile  to  the  interests  of  the  producers,  and  the  prin- 
ciples of  free-trade  and  open  competition,  as  the  old 
ones  had  been.  This  work  very  naturally  excited  and 
depressed  him.  A  more  satisfactory  task  was  the 
revision  of  his  letters  on  travel,  and  the  rearrange- 
ment for  publication  of  the  monographs  on  divers  in- 
dustrial and  mechanical  arts  that  he  had  already  writ- 

206 


DOMI  MANSIT—EUDORA  207 

ten  for  the  Academy  of  Sciences.  These  separate 
studies  formed  the  preface  to  the  great  work,  Le  Dic- 
tionnaire  des  manufactures,  undertaken  the  following 
year  (January,  1781). 

All  these  enterprises  implied  hard  labor,  into  which 
Manon  threw  herself  with  the  zeal  of  a  neophyte, 
for  the  most  practical  and  advantageous  move  that 
Roland  ever  made  was  his  redoubted  marriage.  By  it 
he  acquired  a  devoted  and  indefatigable  secretary,  a 
careful  and  economical  housekeeper,  a  cheerful  and 
loyal  companion,  as  well  as  an  accomplished  and  wor- 
shipful young  wife.  She  was  Roland's  amanuensis 
and  proof-reader,  and  often  his  cook  and  nurse,  for  his 
digestion  was  wretched  and  he  was  constantly  ailing. 

No  bride  ever  came  to  her  husband  more  penetrated 
with  the  desire  of  self-sacrifice  than  did  Manon,  and 
none  ever  found  more  ample  opportunity  for  its  exer- 
cise. Roland  was  overworked,  as  usual,  and  he  was 
daily  exasperated  by  the  frustration  of  his  projects  of 
reform.  He  was  rigidly  attached  to  his  own  opinions 
and  intolerant  of  others'  views;  he  was  a  stern  task- 
master, exacting,  meticulous,  impatient;  he  was  an 
illegible  writer,  and  a  prolix  and  voluminous  anno- 
tator,  without  method  in  the  arrangement  of  his  notes. 
Yet  his  wife's  devotion  was  unfaltering.  Her  humble- 
ness and  her  patience  were  matched  by  her  industr}'. 
She,  who  had  spent  her  leisure  in  the  best  literary 
society  of  all  time,  now  passed  her  days  in  copying 
and  correcting  articles  on  woollens,  cotton  velvet,  and 
peat,  with  a  seriousness  and  grave  sense  of  responsi- 
bility that  in  later  years  she  found  amusing.  "But  it 
proceeded  from  the  heart,"  she  explains.     "I  revered 


2o8  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

my  husband  so  absolutely  that  I  supposed  he  knew 
everything  better  than  myself,  and  I  so  dreaded  to 
see  a  cloud  on  his  brow,  and  he  was  so  set  in  his  opin- 
ions, that  it  was  not  until  long  afterwards  that  I  gained 
courage  enough  to  contradict  him." 

The  monotony  of  these  tasks  was  relieved  by  a 
course  of  lectures  on  botany,  given  by  Jussieu  in  the 
Jardin  des  Plantes.  To  an  observer  and  a  nature- 
lover  like  Manon,  these  conferences  were  a  source  of 
enduring  pleasure,  and  in  the  following  lonely  years 
she  made  a  good  herbarium  of  the  flora  of  Picardy. 
Through  Jussieu  the  Rolands  formed  a  friendship  that 
lasted  through  their  lives,  and  on  his  part  long  after 
their  deaths,  with  Louis  Bosc  d'Antic,  a  member  of 
the  Academy  of  Sciences,  and  already  known  through 
his  own  researches,  though  he  was  but  twenty-one  in 
1780.  He  was  the  son  of  a  Huguenot  physician  and 
had  inherited,  with  little  else,  his  father's  love  of  natu- 
ral science,  his  disinterestedness,  and  the  friendship 
of  the  savants  who  had  been  D'Antic's  companions. 
Louis  had  a  good  position  in  the  post-ofiice  (Secretaire 
de  rintendance  des  Postes),  and  devoted  his  few  free 
hours  to  scientific  study.  Roland,  then  just  beginning 
his  Dictionnaire,  became  especially  interested  in  this 
young  scholar,  who,  knowing  many  people  and  many 
things,  was  so  ready  to  serve  his  new  friends.  Bosc, 
unselfish  and  enthusiastic,  was  attracted  and  retained 
by  the  unique  charm  of  Madame  Roland,  and  the 
congenial  pursuits  of  her  husband.  In  Paris  they  saw 
each  other  daily,  and  when  the  Rolands  went  to 
Amiens  their  correspondence  became  " presque  jour- 
naliere."     Roland  was  always  asking  for  a  bit  of  in- 


M"' ROLAND. 


SO-CALLED  PHVSIONOTRACE  PROFILE  OF  MADAME  ROLAND 
From  a  colored  engravinp  lately  acquired  by  the  Musee  Carnavalet 


DOMI  MANSIT—EUDORA  209 

formation,  or  the  verification  of  a  fact,  and  madame 
added  a  few  lines  at  the  beginning  or  end  of  a  letter. 
Imperceptibly  she  came  to  monopolize  the  writing, 
and  transmitted  her  husband's  questions  and  mes- 
sages. The  Rolands'  letters  to  each  other  were  sent 
under  cover  to  Bosc,  even  when  they  were  of  an  inti- 
mate nature,  partly  because  he  could  frank  them,  but 
also  to  keep  him  au  courant.  Perfect  confidence  and 
a  close  communion  of  ideas,  the  knowledge  that  the 
humdrum  details  of  the  res  angusta  domi,  the  little 
happenings  of  every-day  life,  would  interest  the  absent 
friend,  make  of  these  letters  a  journal  intime  of  Ma- 
dame Roland's  early  wedded  years,  Bosc  had  suc- 
ceeded to  Sophie. 

For  poor  Sophie  had  been  gently  dislodged  from 
Manon's  heart.  Roland  was  a  monopolist  in  his 
wife's  affections.  Sophie  did  not  decamp  without 
many  struggles.  The  end  of  the  long  correspondence 
is  rather  melancholy  reading.  Manon's  poor  excuses 
for  her  silences,  her  references  to  her  absorbing  new 
duties  and  occupations,  the  exclusive  nature  of  marital 
affection — e  tutte  quante  ;  reasons  which  were  no  rea- 
sons, and  which  the  exile  met  with  arguments  and 
reproaches. 

After  the  banishment  of  the  unfortunate  female 
friend,  Madame  Roland's  affections  became  virilized. 
Her  correspondence  was  henceforward  with  men,  with 
Bosc,  Bancal  des  Issarts,  Champagneux,  Brissot,  and 
her  colleagues  and  comrades  in  political  life.  For 
several  years  Roland's  duties  took  him  much  from 
home,  and  his  wife's  daily  letters  to  him  and  her  con- 
stant though  often  interrupted  work  on  the  Diction- 


2IO  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

naire  filled  many  hours  daily.  But  there  was  always 
a  spare  half-hour  for  a  few  lines  to  Bosc,  and  he  kept 
the  Rolands  in  touch  with  the  affairs  of  the  capital. 

Another  less  faithful  friend  who  entered  Madame 
Roland's  life  soon  after  her  marriage  was  Doctor 
Francois  Lanthenas.  His  father,  a  wealthy  wax  mer- 
chant, had  obliged  him,  against  his  will,  to  enter  busi- 
ness in  Lyons.  He  had  already  travelled  as  an  agent 
for  silks  and  laces  in  Holland  and  Germany  when  he 
met  Roland  in  Florence.  Though  Lanthenas  was 
twenty  years  younger  than  the  strict,  elderly  inspector, 
they  became  friends  there,  and  looked  forward  to 
meeting  again.  Lanthenas  returned  from  Italy,  "ill, 
laden  with  books,  engravings,"  an  intense  dislike  for 
a  shopkeeper's  life,  and  a  strong  desire  to  study  natural 
sciences.  Perhaps  his  talks  with  Roland  had  con- 
firmed these  inclinations.  Finally,  after  having  dem- 
onstrated his  incapacity  for  business,  in  1780  Lan- 
thenas obtained  his  father's  permission  to  study 
medicine.  He  went  to  Paris  and  lodged  in  the  Hotel 
de  Lyon,  where  the  Rolands  had  been  living  for  several 
months.  Before  long  he  was  on  a  fraternal  footing 
with  them.  Madame  called  him  "le  petit frerCy*  and 
he  addresses  her  as  "/<«  sorella."  When  the  classical 
Roland  takes  up  the  pen  the  Httle  brother  is  "le  fidele 
Achate^'^  though  sometimes  more  simply  *'/^  com- 
fagnoUy^  or  "/^  camarade." 

Lanthenas,  though  timid  and  irresolute  in  practical 
matters,  was  audacious  in  theory,  and  given  to  men- 
tal speculation.  Later  one  of  the  laws  that  trans- 
formed France,  the  abolition  of  the  rights  of  primogeni- 
ture,  was   the   result   of  his  pamphlets  and   political 


DOMI  MANSIT—EUDORA  211 

influence.  The  Revolutionist  was  still  in  the  bud  in 
1780,  but  novelties  attracted  him.  He  considered 
seriously  buying  Mesmer's  **  Secret,"  as  it  was  called, 
and  becoming  a  thaumaturgist  instead  of  a  physician. 
But  his  interest  in  the  newly  discovered  curative  prop- 
erties of  electricity,  and  the  immense  vogue  of  ^'le 
baquet  de  Mesmer"  did  not  prevent  his  attendance  at 
the  lectures  on  electricity,  or  those  of  the  medical 
school.  Through  Bosc,  whose  cheerful  activity  stimu- 
lated his  own  rather  intermittent  diligence,  Lanthenas 
entered  a  circle  of  students  and  savants.  Here  he  met 
Parraud,  the  translator  and  disciple  of  Swedenborg, 
and  became  a  follower  of  the  Swedish  mystic.  From 
1780  until  1792  his  close  friendship  with  the  Rolands, 
and  his  rather  touching  dependence  on  them  for  men- 
tal sympathy  and  encouragement,  kept  them  con- 
stantly together.  Lanthenas's  own  family  were  un- 
congenial, his  father  was  arbitrary,  his  elder  brother 
tyrannical;  both  were  thoroughly  commercial  in  their 
ideas,  and  had  a  rich  shopkeeper's  contempt  for  the 
less  lucrative  professions.  Roland's  ideals  and  coun- 
sels, Madame  Roland's  vitality  and  enthusiasm,  were 
a  support  and  a  spur  to  the  rather  melancholy  stu- 
dent. Bosc  and  Lanthenas  were  equally  devoted  to 
the  Rolands;  Bosc  disinterested  and  generous,  because 
they  needed  him,  Lanthenas  introspective  and  hesi- 
tating, because  he  needed  them.  Bosc,  like  many 
spirited  young  men,  overflowing  with  an  excess  of 
vitality,  was  a  favorite  in  some  more  frivolous  circles, 
while  Lanthenas  was  inclined  to  be  a  recluse.  With 
her  new  friends  Madame  Roland  spent  most  of  her 
restricted  leisure.     Her  father  had  passed  out  of  her 


212  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

care,  Sophie  had  faded  into  the  background,  the  whole 
plan  of  her  Hfe  had  changed.  This  apparent  shrivel- 
Hng  of  interests  and  narrowing  of  affections  is  ex- 
plained in  one  word — work.  Madame  Roland's  energy 
was  running  a  new  course. 

In  September  she  visited  her  husband's  family  in 
Lyons,  an  event  for  sedentary  Manon,  who  had  flown 
no  farther  from  her  nest  than  Etampes.  Warmly  wel- 
comed by  her  "new  mother,"  who  saw  much  company, 
and  still  loved  the  theatre  and  the  opera,  admired  by 
Roland's  brothers,  Madame  Roland  saw  everything  in 
a  purple  light  of  enthusiasm;  even  dull  little  Ville- 
franche  was  attractive,  and  at  *'Le  Clos,"  in  which 
later  she  was  to  spend  her  happiest  years,  "we  aban- 
doned ourselves  like  school-children  to  the  delights  of 
country  life,  seasoned  with  all  that  the  union  and 
intimacy  of  the  sweetest  ties  can  add  to  it."  The 
redoubtable  mother-in-law,  the  venerable  Bessye,  who 
had  found  the  marriage  of  a  Roland  with  an  engraver's 
daughter  decidedly  deplace  at  first,  was  viewed  with 
partial  eyes.  Even  Lyonnese  society,  which  later 
Manon  found  to  be  so  materialized  and  prejudiced,  so 
crude  and  limited,  in  the  first  fine  glow  of  feeHng 
appeared  only  gay  and  hospitable. 

After  a  two  months'  honeymoon  with  her  new  rela- 
tives, Manon  returned  to  Paris  and  to  new  labors. 
On  the  last  day  of  December  Roland  signed  a  con- 
tract with  the  pubhsher  Panckoucke  for  the  Diction- 
naire  des  manufactures,  arts  et  metiers.  The  author's 
rights  were  three  francs  a  page  (twenty-four  limes  par 
feuille);  the  work  was  pubHshed  in  parts;  it  was  to 
have  been   in  two  volumes,  which   appeared  duly  in 


DOMI  MANSIT-EUDORA  213 

1784-85,  but  the  matter  overflowed  the  mould,  and  in 
August,  1785,  a  contract  was  made  for  a  third  volume, 
treating  skins  and  leathers,  oils,  soaps,  and  dyeing. 
The  author's  rights  were  tripled,  a  proof  of  the  popu- 
larity of  the  preceding  volumes,  but  the  time  and  the 
minute  research  devoted  to  the  articles  must  have 
made  the  undertaking  a  labor  of  love.  It  was  not 
finished  until  1792. 

Full  of  digressions,  overburdened  with  notes  and 
corrections,  this  work  covers  a  vast  field,  and  is  a 
monument  to  the  disinterestedness  and  public  spirit  of 
Roland.  To  spread  the  knowledge  of  the  technical 
processes  of  manufacture  for  the  profit  of  all  was  his 
object.  To  attain  it  he  spared  nothing,  and  he  in- 
curred the  hostility,  even  the  active  enmity,  of  the 
privileged  manufacturers  and  their  patrons.  A  timid 
man  would  have  shrunk  from  such  an  undertaking, 
and  only  an  enthusiast,  sustained  by  a  generous  ideal, 
and  voracious  for  work,  would  have  carried  it  on  to 
the  end. 

With  all  its  imperfections,  its  lack  of  style,  and  its 
compHcated  method,  the  Dictionnaire  was  not  un- 
worthy of  its  forerunner,  the  Enyclopedie,  which 
Panckoucke,  who  was  the  first  of  the  great  modern 
publishers,  of  the  Hachettes  and  the  Firmin-Didots, 
had  previously  published  in  a  revised  form.  Roland's 
work  was  intended  to  supplement  it  and  add  to  it  the 
discoveries  and  inventions  of  the  last  few  decades. 
Balked  in  the  practical  application  of  his  progressive 
ideas,  Roland  found  an  opportunity  to  exploit 
them  theoretically,  in  the  Dictionnaire,  and  in  one 
sense    it   is    a   biography,    for   in   it   his   theories,  his 


214  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

struggles,  his  few  triumphs,  and  his  many  defeats  are 
recorded. 

The  final  business  arrangements  made,  the  Rolands 
left  Paris  for  Amiens,  and  madame — after  a  journey  to 
Dieppe,  where  Roland's  Lettres  d'ltalie  were  in  press, 
and  to  Rouen,  where  she  visited  Roland's  relatives  and 
his  old  friends,  the  Demoiselles  Malortie,  the  sisters  of 
Cleobuline — settled  down  in  a  rather  gloomy  house 
adjoining  the  cemetery-cloister  of  Saint  Denis,  which 
she  was  to  transform  into  the  temple  of  Philemon  and 
Baucis.  This  transformation,  impeded  rather  than 
aided  by  two  very  inefficient  servants,  proceeded  far 
more  slowly  than  the  one  in  the  fable,  but  the  big, 
rambling  dwelling  possessed  one  feature  with  which 
no  house  can  be  really  dreary,  a  garden,  in  which 
madame  worked  joyfully,  with  the  hope  of  flowers  to 
come.  When  the  books  were  unpacked  and  Roland's 
ItaHan  engravings  hung,  and  his  collection  of  trav- 
eller's curiosities  nicely  placed,  the  stately  old  house, 
far  too  large  for  the  little  family,  was  warmed  into 
homeliness.  To  enliven  it  still  further,  a  clavecin  was 
added — only  a  hired  one,  for  it  was  not  until  much 
later  that  a  forte  piano  was  purchased  "with  my  sav- 
ings,' wrote  Madame  Roland  in  her  will.  How  well 
she  played  no  one  has  mentioned,  and  it  is  hardly 
probable  that  one  who  spent  so  much  time  in  other 
ways  could  have  been  a  good  performer,  but  there 
were  plenty  of  pretty  little  twirligig  tunes  and  many 
grand  and  simple  melodies  that  an  indifferent  musi- 
cian could  play  well  enough  to  enjoy.  In  any  case, 
madame  loved  music,  though  her  bourgeoise  mother 
had,   fearing  that  she  might  become  a  professional, 


DOMI  MANSIT—EUDORA  215 

never  allowed  her  to  devote  herself  to  it  exclusively. 
Then,  of  course,  there  were  the  Dictionnaire  articles 
to  be  polished  and  corrected,  translations  to  be  made, 
and  a  large  correspondence  sustained  relative  to  tech- 
nical details  and  processes.  The  Dictionnaire  was  a 
real  Danaid  jar,  and  for  twelve  years  it  was  patiently 
filled. 

There  were  social  duties,  too,  which,  even  when 
reduced  to  the  minimum,  ate  up  the  working  hours. 
"The  women  here  are  afraid  of  you,"  Roland  wrote 
his  wife  from  Amiens,  and  Sophie  sent  the  same  reas- 
suring news  to  the  rather  shy  young  matron.  Ro- 
land's friends  seem  to  have  been  quickly  propitiated. 
The  attainments  of  a  pretty  woman,  who  blushes  and 
hesitates  in  speech,  are  easily  forgiven,  and  Madame 
Roland  was  welcomed  by  a  coterie  of  cultivated  people, 
old  friends  of  her  husband's.  The  De  Brays,  the  De 
Chuignes,  M.  and  Madame  d'Eu,  and  M.  de  Vin,  the 
cicisbeoy  en  tout  bieuy  en  toute  honneur  of  Madame 
d'Eu,  belonged  to  the  grande  bourgeoisie  of  Amiens. 
M.  d'Eu  was  a  collector  of  books  and  a  student  of 
science.  M.  de  Vin  was  devoted  to  letters,  and  had 
founded  the  local  academy,  the  Museum  of  Amiens; 
they  lived  close  at  hand  and  the  Rolands  saw  them 
daily.  The  newcomer  lacked  neither  sympathetic  so- 
ciety nor  visits.  Madame  was,  however,  very  much 
occupied  with  preparations  for  another  visit,  which 
she  expected  in  October  (1781),  and  which  proved  a 
sad  disappointment.  She  tried  to  soften  the  blow  in 
a  letter  to  Dom  Roland,  the  head  of  the  family: 

*'Well,  well,  my  dear  brother,  it  is  only  a  girl,  and 
I  make  you  my  very  humble  excuses.  .  .  .     Also,  I 


2i6  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

promise  you  that  this  little  niece  will  love  you  so  much 
that  you  will  pardon  her  for  putting  her  nose  into  a 
world  where  she  has  no  business  to  come. 

"  With  this  assurance,  and  with  a  promise  to  do  bet- 
ter in  future,  I  hope  that  you  will  accord  me  full  for- 
giveness, and  I  hasten  to  ask  it  of  you,  as  I  believe 
you  to  be  really  and  truly  sorry.  I  know  that  you 
consider  this  a  bitter  dose.  I  agree  that  your  position 
is  a  hard  one.  I  have  made  a  full  confession,  so  now 
do  not  let  us  speak  more  of  it,  only  of  the  side  issues." 

The  young  mother  felt  that  she  had  poorly  requited 
the  kindness  of  her  new  relatives.  Only  a  girl  when 
a  boy  was  expected,  a  son  for  whom  Roland  was  al- 
ready seeking  a  restoration  of  the  ancient  title,  that 
he  might  be  born  noble;  to  whom  the  head  of  the 
house,  the  chanoine  Dominique,  was  ready  to  cede  the 
domain  and  the  clos,  so  that  the  hoped-for  heir  might 
be  in  truth,  as  well  as  in  name,  a  Roland  de  la  Pla- 
tiere.  These  celibate  brothers  with  the  pride  of  the 
old  gentry  and  the  nepotism  of  priests  had  counted 
so  much  on  a  boy,  to  keep  the  honorable  old  house 
alive  and  the  family  acres  together.  Ideas  had 
changed  in  an  awakening  France,  but  feeling  was  still 
mediaeval,  and  the  eldest  son  occupied  a  position  of 
authority  and  dignity  in  the  home  circle  second  only 
to  that  of  the  father. 

Was  the  disappointment  of  the  brothers  shared  by 
Madame  Roland  ?  Was  she,  like  many  women  of 
strong  will  and  virile  mind,  desirous  to  be  the  mother 
of  men  only,  of  sons  who  with  larger  opportunity  and 
firmer  purpose  should  translate  her  wishes  into  acts, 
her  dreams  into  realities  "i     The  ladies  of  the  Renais- 


DOMI  MANSIT—EUDORA  217 

sance,  who,  despite  their  humanities,  and  their  pic- 
tures and  furniture,  were  very  primitive  persons  (like 
their  fathers  and  husbands),  showed  their  disappoint- 
ment on  similar  occasions  with  animal  directness. 
Madame  Roland,  frankest  of  women,  never  breathed  a 
regret  that  her  "little  chicken,"  her  ''■petite^'''  was  not 
a  boy,  except  in  the  playful  letter  to  her  brother-in- 
law.  Indeed,  the  anxious,  unquiet  mama  of  Marie- 
Therese  Eudora  Roland  was  too  constantly  preoccu- 
pied in  keeping  her  child  alive  to  find  a  moment  for 
any  other  considerations.  Eudora  had  not  inherited 
her  mother's  fine  constitution,  but  even  in  her  ten- 
derest  infancy  manifested  certain  other  less  desirable 
inherited  characteristics.  She  was  as  obstinate  as  her 
father,  as  headstrong  as  the  little  Manon  had  been. 
Eudora  refused  to  grow,  she  declined  to  digest.  She 
cried  all  night,  and  slept  during  the  day,  only  in  order 
to  prevent  others  from  enjoying  repose  at  the  proper 
time.  She  bullied  her  mother  and  terrorized  her 
nurse;  she  was  so  incredibly  greedy  that  Manon  de- 
cided the  story  of  Eve  was  not  so  stupid  after  all,  and 
that  gormandizing  must  have  been  the  original  sin. 
The  baby's  stomach  was  her  deity,  and  while  her 
mother  had  early  in  life  chosen  the  heroes  of  Plutarch 
for  her  models  of  conduct,  Eudora  had  apparently 
selected  the  Emperor  Vitellius  for  her  exemplar. 

But  this  gluttonous,  despotic  mite  of  ailing  flesh 
was  the  centre  of  Manon's  universe.  No  madonna, 
more  radiantly  illumined  b}'  the  ineffable  tenderness 
within  than  by  the  golden  light  of  her  official  aureole, 
ever  bent  over  her  divine  charge  in  more  absolute  self- 
surrender.     All  her  activities  circled  about  this  sick 


2i8  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

child,  and  the  stoic,  who  had  elected  reason  for  her 
guide,  now  abandoned  herself  quite  unabashed  to 
pure  instinct.  She  was  all  mother;  a  passion  of  love 
and  pity  had  submerged  all  other  duties,  all  other 
claims. 

Like  many  robust  girls,  Manon  became  a  feeble 
and  delicate  parent.  For  many  months  her  strength 
did  not  return,  and  she  who  had  easily  walked  from 
the  Pont  Neuf  to  Vincennes  could  not  cross  her  own 
room  without  falling  from  weakness.  Invalidism  was 
intolerable  to  her,  for  it  condemned  her  to  inaction. 
She  was  shaken  by  the  terrors  of  the  mother  who 
looks  on  helpless  while  her  child  pines;  she  was  tor- 
tured by  jealousy  of  Eudora's  nurse,  of  the  bonne,  in 
whose  strong  arms  the  baby  was  quieter  and  more 
content  than  in  her  own  trembling  ones.  She  had 
insisted  on  nursing  her  child  against  the  advice  of  her 
physician,  and  in  spite  of  Roland's  remonstrances. 
Eudora  seconded  her  by  refusing  to  thrive  except  at 
her  mother's  expense,  and  prudent  counsels  were  nat- 
urally unheeded  by  Manon  with  the  thin,  querulous 
wail  of  a  hungry  baby  in  her  ear.  Very  slowly,  with 
infinite  patience  and  utter  oblivion  of  self,  Madame 
Roland  built  up  the  child's  strength  and  restored  her 
own.  Her  task  was  a  difficult  one;  there  were  few 
"Parent's  Guides"  and  "Mother's  Assistants"  to  help 
and  advise.  Her  only  vade  mecum  was  Madame  de 
Reboul's  Avis  aux  Meres.  Medicine  was  in  its  heroic 
age,  and  busied  itself  little  with  the  ills  of  women  and 
children.  Half  of  the  infants  born  were  expected  to 
die,  and  they  fulfilled  expectations.  Only  the  fittest 
survived    the   rough   nursing   of  the   peasant   foster- 


DOMI  MANSIT—EUDORA  219 

mothers  to  whom  they  were  invariably  confided. 
Manon  got  Httle  aid  from  her  doctor.  "Z,a  medecine 
est  un  art  purement  conjectural^*^  she  concluded  sadly, 
after  cross-examining  him.  Each  case  was  practically 
a  new  experience  and  fresh  matter  for  experiment. 
This  decision  encouraged  her  to  do  some  experimenta- 
tion for  herself  in  diet  and  regime.  Thanks  to  her 
initiative  and  her  intelligence,  the  puny  baby  was 
truly  born  again  to  health  and  joy;  Eudora  was  twice 
her  mother's  daughter. 

Of  course  in  this  long  struggle  with  death  minor 
interests  were  forgotten.  The  Dictionnaire  languished, 
and  though  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  twenty-four 
Manon  remembered  that  she  was  a  wife,  and  always 
wrote  Roland  a  long  letter  daily  during  his  frequent 
absences  from  home,  it  was  sometimes  almost  illegible 
because  Eudora  insisted  on  remaining  in  her  mother's 
lap.  For  the  same  reason  all  reading  save  in  the 
smallest  volumes  was  renounced;  indeed,  Eudora  filled 
the  whole  arc  of  her  existence  so  completely  that 
when  M.  de  Vin  came  in  jubilant  to  announce  the 
surrender  of  Yorktown,  Manon,  the  ardent  republi- 
can and  former  sympathizer  with  the  high-spirited 
Americans,  commented  coolly:  "I  cannot  conceive 
what  interest  a  private  individual  can  take  in  the 
affairs  of  kings  who  are  not  fighting  for  us  !" 

If  the  Citoyenne  Roland  had  reread  the  letters  of 
Madame  de  la  Platiere  she  would  have  winced  and 
perhaps  blushed  at  this  sentence.  What  bHnders 
ruthless  Dame  Nature  claps  on  her  wisest  daughters 
when  she  uses  them  for  her  own  purposes !  Hypatia 
in  the  nursery,  worried  over  an  outbreak  of  measles. 


220  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

would  probably  have  received  the  news  of  the  burning 
of  the  Alexandrian  library  with  indifference.  If  the 
recently  published  letters  to  Roland  are  a  record  of 
obscure  though  unfaltering  devotion,  they  are  also 
from  their  very  nature  a  chronicle  of  the  smallest  of 
beer.  Manon  herself  characterizes  them:  "Here  are 
nothing  but  accounts  of  drugs  and  meals;  would  you 
believe  that  you  could  have  read  them  without  dis- 
gust ?  How  affection  transforms  and  lends  interest  to 
the  commonest  subject!" 

Roland's  sudden  descent  from  the  altar  and  his 
abasement  to  a  mere  acolyte  of  the  high  priestess  to 
the  new  divinity  was  something  of  a  shock  to  him. 
It  was  difficult  to  sink  instantly  into  insignificant 
fatherhood.  Manon  broke  his  fall  with  soft  words: 
"  Adieu y  menage-toi  bien  ;  songe  que  ma  fille  ne  me  tient 
a  la  vie  que  par  un  -petit  fily  et  que  tu  m'y  attaches  de  tous 
les  cotes,  et  choie  ma  sante  dans  la  tienne."  Dishearten- 
ing lists  of  varied  ills:  smoky  chimneys,  indigestions, 
sick-room  details,  and  the  misdeeds  of  cooks  and 
bonnes,  who  seem  to  have  been  unusually  imperfect 
people,  the  prose  of  domestic  life  in  fine,  invariably 
ended  with  a  tender  message  to  hearten  and  comfort 
Roland  as  he  splashed  through  the  deep  mud  of 
dreary  roads  on  his  winter  journeys. 

With  time  Eudora  grew  less  voracious  and  exacting 
and  Manon  more  normal.  She  even  went  to  the 
theatre  en  loge  grillee,  the  cosey  stage-box  where  if  lazy 
or  ill  one  went  en  neglige,  with  foot-warmer  and  work- 
bag,  and  where  Manon  wept  over  Mahomet  and 
L'Orphelin  de  Chine — works  that  leave  modern  eyes 
quite   dry.     She    attended    church   on   Sundays,    "to 


DOM  I  MANSIT—EUDORA  221 

freeze  her  feet  for  the  edification  of  her  neighbor.'* 
She  paid  a  visit  of  congratulation  to  Madame  d'Eu, 
and  returned  indignant  to  confide  her  ire  to  Roland. 
**Yesterday  Madame  d'Eu  gave  birth  to  a  daughter; 
her  husband  is  ashamed  of  it,  and  she  is  in  a  bad 
temper.  I  have  never  seen  anything  so  grotesque.  I 
went  out  this  morning  to  see  them.  Bon  Dieu  !  How 
strange  it  seems  to  me  to  find  a  newly  made  mother 
without  her  child.  The  poor  baby  sucked  its  fingers, 
and  drank  cow's  milk  in  a  room  far  away  from  its 
mother,  while  waiting  for  the  mercenary  being  who  is 
to  nurse  it.  The  father  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  have 
the  baptism  over  so  as  to  send  the  little  creature  away 
to  the  village  [of  the  foster-mother].  Now,  my  dear, 
it  is  not  my  fault,  but  I  respect  them  both  a  little  less 
since  I  have  witnessed  their  indifference." 

Sundays  were  Manon's  holidays,  spent  in  botanizing 
during  the  fine  weather  in  the  fields  and  ditches  around 
Amiens,  for  with  the  return  of  health  she  resumed 
work  on  the  Dictionnaire;  it  was  difficult  and  dry,  but 
as  usual  she  idealized  her  drudgery,  considering  it  as 
Roland's  Apologia,  and  a  means  of  bringing  to  the 
people  useful  and  profitable  knowledge  that  monopo- 
lists' greed  had  withheld.  And  Manon  also  looked 
forward  to  a  pleasant  harvest-time  when  at  last  she 
should  have  done  with  Arts  and  might  give  herself 
unreservedly  to  Letters;  a  pleasant  Indian  summer,  ww 
He  de  la  Saint  Martin,  when  Roland  retired  from  his 
inspectorship  on  a  well-earned  pension,  and  the  benefi- 
cent Dictionnaire  finished,  he  and  she  should  really 
act  Philemon  and  Baucis.  A  vine-hung  cottage  like 
those  Gessner  described  to  ravished  town-dwellers,  a 


222  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

little  farm,  a  few  friends,  long,  blissful  days  with 
poets  and  philosophers,  with  flowers  and  music — this 
was  the  mirage  on  which  Manon  fixed  longing  eyes 
while  she  toiled  steadily  through  a  desert  of  technical 
aridities. 


CHAPTER  XI 
FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS 

With  the  design  of  realizing  this  ideal,  the  Rolands 
decided  in  the  spring  of  1784  to  ask  for  letters  of 
nobility  and  a  retiring  pension.  The  former  demand 
was  not  as  much  out  of  character  as  appears  at  the 
first  blush.  When  an  heir  was  expected  Dominique 
Roland,  the  head  of  the  clan,  had  gathered  the  finest 
fruits  of  the  family  tree,  and  collected  documentary 
evidence  to  prove  the  former  nobility  of  his  house 
during  its  prosperity.  After  reverses  of  fortune  the 
Rolands  ceased  to  bear  arms  that  they  were  unable  to 
gild;  they  now  asked,  therefore,  merely  for  the  resto- 
ration and  the  public  acknowledgment  of  what  they 
had  once  possessed.  A  list  of  their  titles  and  honors 
signed  and  sealed  by  the  nobility  of  Beaujolais  and 
the  senechaussee  and  municipality  of  Villefranche  re- 
mains among  the  Roland  family  papers  in  the  Biblio- 
theque  Nationale  in  madame's   handwriting. 

Letters  of  nobility  conferred  practical  rights  and 
privileges,  exemptions  from  taxes  and  many  vexatious 
imposts,  and  insured  a  fixed  social  position.  Inventors 
and  manufacturers  had  recently  been  ennobled;  for 
instance,  Roland's  adversary,  Holker,  and  the  father 
of  the  aeronaut  Montgolfier.  Roland  leaned,  also,  on 
his  personal  merits,  thirty  years  of  service,  and  his 
writing  and  researches.     Against  him,  however,  were 

223 


224  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

his  projected  reforms,  which  disturbed  monopolists 
and  indolent  holders  of  sinecures,  his  activity  that  set 
an  uncomfortably  high  standard  of  comparison,  his 
neglect  of  current  courtesies,  and  his  uncompromising 
frankness  of  speech,  which  had  alarmed  and  offended 
the  Intendants  of  Commerce.  They  presented  an 
almost  unbroken  front  of  opposition  to  the  advance- 
ment of  a  restless,  uncivil  agitator,  as  they  considered 
Roland.  To  secure  his  letters  of  nobility  a  recommen- 
dation to  the  King  from  the  Royal  Council  of  Com- 
merce was  required.  Trudaine,  Roland's  friend  and 
protector,  was  dead,  and  Calonne,  the  new  Controleur- 
general  des  finances  (since  April  3,  1783),  was  at  the 
head  of  the  Council;  the  good-will  of  the  directors 
was,  therefore,  necessary  to  Roland's  success,  as  the 
newly  appointed  Controleur  would  naturally  be  influ- 
enced by  their  opinions;  and  these  directors,  the  In- 
tendants of  Commerce,  were  inimical  to  Roland.  He 
had  already  experienced  one  check  from  them;  the 
usual  form  of  application  for  the  title  had  already  been 
followed  and  had  failed,  for  Roland's  papers  had  been 
submitted  to  the  adversary  of  his  reforms,  and,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  had  not  been  heard  from. 
In  order  to  avoid  the  Intendants,  the  Rolands  de- 
cided to  reverse  the  usual  procedure,  and  apply  directly 
to  Calonne.  If  a  letter  from  him  approving  Roland's 
request  could  be  obtained  before  the  Intendants  were 
consulted,  their  opposition  would  come  too  late,  and 
the  affair  would  be  put  through  by  a  coup  de  main. 
It  was  decided  in  the  family  council  that  Manon  would 
be  a  more  effective  solicitor  than  Roland,  so  on 
March  18  she  left  Eudora  in  his  care,  and,  accompa- 


MADAME  ROI.AXD 
From  a  portrait  drawing  in  the  possession  of  her  family 


FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS  225 

nied  by  the  faithful  successor  of  Mignonne,  Marie 
Fleury,  took  the  coach  for  Paris.  She  had  engaged 
rooms  at  the  Hotel  de  Lyon,  where  she  found  herself 
among  friends.  Roland's  brother,  the  Benedictine 
prior,  met  her  there,  lent  her  furniture,  and  looked 
after  her  comfort,  and  Lanthenas,  who  was  studying 
medicine,  and  lodged  on  the  floor  above  her,  was  de- 
lighted to  run  her  errands  and  squire  her  about  Paris. 
Bosc  was  a  daily  visitor,  and  gave  her  what  time  he 
could  spare  from  his  sick  father.  Her  own  father  was 
evidently  estranged  from  her,  for  Bonnemaman  Phlipon 
died  shortly  before  Manon's  arrival  in  Paris  (March  10), 
and  she  learned  of  her  grandmother's  death  only 
through  Sister  Agathe.  The  manufacturer  Flesselles, 
Roland's  generous  friend,  who  was  in  Paris  to  obtain 
a  "privilege"  from  Calonne  to  introduce  Arkwright's 
spinning-jenny  in  France,  gave  her  advice  and  all  the 
help  in  his  power,  Mademoiselle  de  la  Belouze,  Roland's 
cousin,  introduced  Manon  to  some  people  at  court,  the 
D'Arbouvilles,  who  promised  assistance,  and  Manon 
began  her  campaign  in  kind  company. 

She  commenced  operations  by  putting  her  papers  in 
order,  unpacked  her  gowns,  and  engaged  a  hair-dresser. 
Mindful,  also,  of  inevitable  jading  delays,  and  hours 
of  enforced  idleness,  she  hired  a  clavegiuy  and  borrowed 
Clarissa  Harlowe — not  in  the  original,  though  she  had 
studied  English  during  the  previous  three  years.  She 
had  also  provided  herself  with  some  things  more  difii- 
cult  to  acquire  than  even  a  language — a  meekness 
greater  than  that  of  Moses  and  a  patience  out-Jobing 
the  Edomite's. 

Her  experience  was  recounted   in   daily  letters   to 


226  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

Roland.  They  yield  material  for  a  comedy  of  man- 
ners, and  afford  a  glimpse  of  public  life  and  political 
administration  that  would  be  more  diverting  if  we 
were  sure  that  the  methods  it  describes  were  obsolete. 
Manon's  object  was  a  personal  interview  with  M.  de 
Calonne,  le  charmant  roue,  as  she  and  everybody  in  the 
world  called  him  when  they  used  no  harsher  term,  but 
M.  de  Calonne  was  as  inaccessible  as  the  Grand  Lama. 
The  swift,  simple  course  planned  at  home,  which 
seemed  feasible  enough  when  they  talked  it  over  in  Ro- 
land's study,  proved  almost  impracticable;  indeed,  no 
honest  and  straightforward  person,  unaccustomed  to 
court  life,  could  realize  beforehand  the  labyrinth  of  in- 
trigue that  surrounded  the  minister.  He  was  the  centre 
of  a  veritable  maze  of  plots  and  schemes.  Manon's  task 
was  to  find  a  clew  to  guide  her  to  him;  instead,  she 
soon  discovered  that  she  herself  was  enmeshed  in  a 
tangle  of  red  tape.  At  the  outset  she  was  assured  that 
to  defy  precedent  was  impossible;  she  must  proceed  in 
the  old  way  and  propitiate  the  Intendants.  With  the 
zeal  of  a  recruit  she  resolved  to  try  both  methods  and 
to  knock  at  all  doors,  to  renounce  the  title,  if  neces- 
sary, and  solicit  only  the  retiring  pension.  She  "armed 
herself  to  the  teeth  with  patience,"  and  with  her  rare 
facult)^  of  living  in  the  present  rather  enjoyed  playing 
the  game  and  making  the  best  of  her  hand,  even  if  her 
cards  were  poor  and  fortune  refractory.  ''Me  voild 
done  tout-de-bon  solliciteuse  et  intrigante  ;  c'est  un  Hen  sot 
metier !  Mais  enfin  je  le  fais,  et  point  a  demi,  car 
autrement  il  serait  fort  inutile  de  s'en  meler." 

Manon  thrust  her  pride  into  her  pocket,  and  wait- 
ed  patiently  in    antechambers,  danced  attendance  at 


FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS  227 

early  levees,  ruined  herself  in  carriage  hire  galloping 
to  and  from  Versailles,  and  daily  endured  an  elaborate 
hair-dressing — not  the  least  of  her  trials.  There  was 
truly  no  royal  road  to  preferment;  instead,  there  were 
dingy  back-stairs  to  climb,  the  underworld  of  lackeys 
and  parasites  to  pass,  constant  demand  for  propitiatory 
offerings,  and  endless  petty,  mean  trials  for  pride  and 
patience.  Manon  determined  at  least  to  deserve  suc- 
cess, swallowed  slices  of  humble-pie  without  a  grimace, 
and  ignored  the  impertinences  of  porters  and  flunkies 
with  cheerful  serenity.  The  remembrance  of  Roland's 
thirty  years  of  unflagging  zeal  in  his  country's  service, 
his  honest  right  to  compensation  for  his  life's  work, 
sustained  her  in  her  daily  efforts.  Great  people  were 
hedged  about  with  lesser  people  of  awful  dignity  of 
mien,  whose  grandeur  increased  in  direct  ratio  as  their 
social  importance  diminished.  It  was  mainly  with 
this  outer  circumference  of  rank  that  Manon's  busi- 
ness lay.  She  waited  on  the  steward  of  this,  the  sec- 
retary of  that,  great  personage;  she  made  her  courtesy 
to  superannuated  ladies-in-waiting  and  royal  femmes 
de  chambre  with  the  same  cheerful  dignity  that  she 
maintained  in  face  of  obstacles  and  discouragement. 

In  truth,  she  was  better  off  than  her  predecessors 
had  been  during  the  previous  reign.  Under  Louis  the 
Beloved  favor-seekers  sought  the  good  graces  of  a 
lap-dog  as  the  surest  way  to  advancement.  This  dis- 
penser of  places  and  honors  was  the  property  of  Julie, 
the  petted  maid  of  Madame  de  Grammont,  the  sister 
of  the  Due  de  Choiseul,  chief  wire-puller  of  the  puppet 
King  of  France.  Julie  held  her  court,  or,  rather, 
opened  an  office  for  the  distribution  of  positions  and 


228  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

pensions  in  the  entresol  of  the  hotels  where  the  dog 
was  enthroned  to  receive  homage.  Verses  were  made 
to  it,  as  well  as  more  substantial  offerings,  for  large 
issues  hung  on  the  wagging  of  its  tail,  and  ambitious 
projects  were  quashed  by  a  growl.  The  pampered  pet 
and  his  mistress  gave  an  emperor  to  France.  How  a 
shifty  Italian  pleased  the  dog  and  bribed  Julie,  who 
managed  her  mistress,  who  persuaded  Choiseul,  who 
impelled  the  King;  how  Genoa  was  betrayed,  Corsica 
crushed,  and  finally  ceded  to  France  in  time  to  make 
Napoleone  Buonaparte  a  French  citizen  (August  15, 
1769)  is  matter  of  history. 

Manon  at  least  had  skipped  one  rung  of  the  ladder, 
and  begun  with  the  human  favorite.  Kind  M.  de 
Flesselles  knew  Madame  Elizabeth's  valet  de  chamhre^ 
who  perhaps  could  be  persuaded  to  say  a  word  for 
Manon  to  M.  de  Vaudreuil,  who  was  all-powerful  with 
M.  de  Calonne.  The  desired  interview  might  be  ob- 
tained if  M.  de  Vaudreuil,  who  was  the  lover  of  Ma- 
dame de  Polignac,  who  was  the  favorite  of  the  Queen, 
who  was  the  patroness  of  M.  de  Calonne,  could  be 
induced  by  Madame  Elizabeth's  valet  de  chamhre,  insti- 
gated by  M.  de  Flesselles,  to  recommend  Roland. 

It  was  a  strange  house-that-Jack-built,  this  govern- 
ment by  favor.  The  rule  of  Marie  Antoinette,  which 
had  succeeded  to  that  of  Madame  du  Barry,  differed 
in  no  way  from  her  predecessor's.  It  was  character- 
ized by  the  same  absence  of  principles,  the  same  igno- 
rance of  public  affairs,  the  same  lack  of  any  sense  of 
duty.  The  new  Reine  Cotillon  was  as  frivolous  and 
capricious  as  the  older  sovereign,  and  more  extrava- 
gant and  arbitrary.     In  1784,  when  Manon  began  her 


FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS  229 

quest,  M.  de  Vaudreuil  was  King  of  France,  for  if 
Marie  Antoinette  ruled  Louis  XVI,  Madame  de  Po- 
lignac  tyrannized  over  Marie  Antoinette,  and  M.  de 
Vaudreuil  governed  Madame  de  Polignac,  He  lorded 
it  over  his  slave's  slave,  also,  was  intolerably  insolent 
to  the  Queen,  and  once,  when  she  opposed  his  will, 
shattered  her  pet  billiard  cue  in  a  tit  of  rage.  Maria 
Theresa's  daughter  bowed  her  regal  neck  to  his  yoke, 
for  Madame  de  Polignac  had  tamed  her  spirit.  In- 
stances of  her  abasement  abound;  one  may  suffice 
here: 

The  minister  of  war,  Montbarrey,  had  refused  to 
lend  money  to  Vaudreuil,  who  promptly  demanded  the 
minister's  dismissal.  The  Queen  hesitated;  Montbar- 
rey was  the  choice  of  Coigny,  another  of  her  favorites, 
whom  she  feared  to  offend.  She  ventured  to  resist, 
but  Madame  de  Polignac  had  only  to  threaten  to  retire 
from  court  to  bring  the  Queen  literall}^  to  her  knees,  in 
a  passion  of  tears  and  entreaties,  begging  pardon  for 
her  momentary  rebellion.  To  prove  her  repentance, 
Marie  Antoinette  obeyed  her  despot  more  blindly  than 
before,  and  appointed  Vaudreuil's  creature  Segur  to 
the  ministry.  She  knew  nothing  of  Segur,  not  even 
his  name.  "Be  happy,  my  dear,  Puysegur  is  named," 
she  announced  triumphantly  to  her  ruler  (Besen- 
val).  The  Queen's  little  mistake  corrected,  through 
Segur  the  Polignac  faction  controlled  the  army,  and 
through  their  protege,  Calonne,  they  disposed  of  the 
national  finances.  *'//  Jallait  un  calculateur,  on  a 
nomme  un  dansexir^''  laughed  Figaro-Beaumarchais 
when  this  appointment  was  made.  Folk  less  cheerful 
called  the  new  minister  a  panier  perccy  and  trembled  to 


230  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

see  the  public  money  in  the  hands  of  this  prodigal. 
Calonne  more  than  reahzed  the  expectations  of  the 
camarilla  who  surrounded  the  Queen,  and  the  fears  of 
the  intelHgent.  He  began  by  announcing  that,  unhke 
stingy  Necker,  he  should  constantly  consider  private 
fortunes.  He  had  previously  dissipated  his  own,  and 
confessed  to  Machault:  "The  finances  of  France  are 
in  a  deplorable  condition.  You  may  be  sure  that  I 
should  never  have  taken  charge  of  them  but  for  the 
bad  state  of  my  own."  He  had  just  begun  his  aston- 
ishing career  in  1784,  but  had  already  borrowed  a  hun- 
dred millions,  paid  the  princes'  debts,  and  gorged  with 
gold  the  faction  to  which  he  owed  his  power.  "Is 
that  all.'*"  he  asked  a  lady  who  brought  him  a  draft 
for  an  enormous  sum.  In  one  year  Calonne  paid  out 
in  cash  136,000,000  livres,  21,000,000  on  orders  to  the 
bearer. 

Never  had  queen  so  obliging  a  paymaster.  She 
kept  him  busy,  for  her  many  friendships  flourished  only 
under  a  golden  shower.  Her  own  privy  purse  had 
grown  from  200,000  to  400,000  livreSy  but  she  was 
always  penniless,  for  besides  her  enormous  gaming 
debts  and  her  passion  for  dress  and  diamonds,  there 
were  many  favored  ones  besides  Madame  de  Polignac. 
There  were  also  Madame  de  Polignac's  lover,  child, 
husband,  brothers,  sister,  sister's  husband  and  lovers 
to  be  enriched.  The  jealousies  of  outgrown  favorites 
were  soothed  only  by  an  increase  of  their  pensions;  for 
instance,  it  cost  a  France  that  could  not  pay  its  sol- 
diers, 150,000  livres  to  salve  Madame  de  Lamballe's 
wounded  feelings  when  supplanted  by  Madame  de 
Polignac,  though  this  poor  invalid,  a  kind  of  doll-in- 


FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS  231 

waiting,  was  already  receiving  an  annual  income  of 
150,000  livres  from  the  Treasury,  because  she  had  once 
pleased  the  Queen.  But  the  river  of  gold  flowing  so 
bounteously  into  emblazoned  coffers  dwindled  to  a 
slender  stream  before  it  reached  the  workers  of  the 
Third  Estate.  Strict  economy  was  practised  only  in 
the  pay-rolls  of  those  who  served  the  nation. 

It  was  not  long  before  Manon's  hopes  of  a  retiring 
pension  grew  misty,  and  her  new  knowledge  of  the 
difficulties  of  the  situation  convinced  her  of  the  im- 
probability of  honest  work  finding  an  honorable  rec- 
ompense unassisted  by  antechamber  influence.  In  an 
hour  of  discouragement  she  wrote  to  Roland.  The 
result  alarmed  her.  The  proud,  stoical  man  wept  for 
the  fatigue  and  humiliation  she  had  borne  for  him,  and 
was  so  ready  to  renounce  the  whole  project  that  she 
was  obliged  to  reassure  him  in  order  to  continue  her 
quest. 

April  9,  1784. 

"Why,  my  friend,  it  is  you  who  are  grieving  and 
shedding  tears!  You  who  have  a  right  to  all  the 
sweets  of  an  industrious  and  honorable  life,  consecrated 
to  the  pubhc  good !  You  whom  no  one  can  deprive  of 
your  own  approval,  to  which  is  joined  that  of  the 
majority  of  the  public,  and  a  crowd  of  distinguished 
people !  You  who  esteem  so  highly  the  joys  of  domes- 
tic life,  and  whom  nobody  in  the  world  can  prevent 
enjoying  it !  Can  a  few  unjust  men  do  away  with  so 
many  causes  of  happiness  ?  Come  to  my  heart  with 
our  Eudora;  let  us  forget  despicable  people.  Our  love, 
our  mutual  trust,  and  peace,  are  they  not  enough  for 
our  happiness,  with  a  corner  of  the  earth  to  which 


232  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

we  can  retire  ?  Come,  if  you  can  conquer  the  indigna- 
tion and  bitterness  caused  by  baseness  and  injustice; 
if  you  can  free  yourself  from  labors  that  distress  me  by 
their  effect  on  you.  I  ask  no  more  to  be  happy  .  .  . 
the  thought  of  your  sadness  is  unbearable  to  me. 
Take  better  care  of  our  common  happiness  that  you 
hold  in  your  hands.  Take  courage,  let  us  do  every- 
thing that  is  possible,  and  give  up  the  rest.  .  .  . 
Finally,  my  dear,  if  we  are  not  made  to  be  happy  in 
spite  of  the  devil,  never  human  beings  were  made  to 
be  so.  Take  good  care  of  your  health;  as  for  me,  I 
laugh  at  everything  else.  I  kiss  you  on  both  eyes.  I 
beseech  you  to  be  more  tranquil;  play  with  our  baby 
while  you  think  of  her  mother,  and  then  see  if  you  still 
can  be  sad.  At  least  it  would  not  be  wise  to  be  so. 
Write  to  me  with  another  ink,  or  I  shall  start  for 
home  at  once,  and  no  longer  waste  my  life  thus  away 
from  you;  it  is  this  only  that  really  grieves  me.  But 
write  me  from  your  heart.  I  mean  to  say  that  I  do 
not  wish  a  change  only  in  outward  signs,  but  in  your 
feelings.  I  embrace  you  without  being  able  to  tear 
myself  from  your  arms,  to  which  I  burn  to  fly.     Adieu." 

Meanwhile,  all  the  old  practitioners  in  the  business 
of  favor-seeking,  from  Madame  Adelaide's  femme  de 
chambre  to  the  ahbe  galant,  who  knew  the  court  better 
than  the  church,  convinced  Manon  that  her  only 
chance  of  success  lay  in  abandoning  her  short  cut  to 
honors  and  returning  to  the  beaten  track.  The  In- 
tendants'  recommendation  must  be  obtained  before 
any  one,  even  the  most  unimportant  official,  would 
consider  her  claims.     Manon,  stifling  her  misgivings, 


FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS  233 

changed  her  tactics,  and  abandoning  the  hope  of  an 
interview  with  Calonne  as  too  romantic  for  reahzation, 
at  once  began  the  siege  of  the  Intend  ants.  Roland's 
most  violent  opponent  was  Tolozan;  Blondel  and 
Montaran  took  their  cue  from  him,  and  it  was  with 
some  trepidation  that  Madame  Roland  made  him  her 
first  visit.  She  sent  an  account  of  it  to  her  husband 
directly  afterwards. 

Monday  Evening,  April  19th,  1784. 

"I  received  last  evening  notice  of  a  rendez-vous  to- 
day between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock.  I  have  seen  the 
bear.  I  have  cut  his  claws  a  little  but  he  growled  a 
good  deal.  He  has  promised  to  help  me.  I  could  not 
promise  myself  more.  Now  that  I  have  satisfied  your 
impatience  in  telling  you  the  result,  I  am  going  to 
amuse  you  by  the  details. 

"When  I  went  into  Tolozan's  study  he  was  in  his 
night-cap;  rising  with  a  nod  and  a  sullen  air,  without 
looking  at  me,  he  showed  me  the  armchair  that  was 
waiting  for  me.  I  began  by  thanking  him  for  the 
time  he  gave  me  in  the  midst  of  his  occupations,  etc. 
A  'What's  it  about.'*'  said  impatiently  warned  me  to 
cut  my  courtesies  short.  I  was  determined  not  to  be 
confused.  I  answered  very  quietly  that  I  came  to 
explain  your  situation  and  your  wishes;  that  I  came 
to  him  because  his  sagacity,  as  well  as  his  equity  in 
business,  were  equally  well  known.  From  him  I  ex- 
pected the  justness  of  views  and  the  decision  that 
should  be  authoritative;  that  for  thirty  years  you  had 
sufficiently  demonstrated  your  zeal,  your  talents,  etc. 
But  hardly  had  I  begun  to  blow  your  trumpet  when 


234  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

he  rose  and  with  singular  fire  [saidj:  'Take  care  not 
to  represent  him  to  us  as  a  superior  man !  That  is  his 
pretension,  but  we  are  far  from  considering  him  one!' 
From  there  on  I  had  to  stand  an  outburst,  but  an  out- 
burst of  which  it  is  not  possible  to  give  you  an  idea." 

Roland  was  accused  of  pedantry,  unbearable  pride, 
greed  of  glory,  pretensions  of  all  kinds;  he  was  a  per- 
petual contradictor,  a  bad  writer,  a  bad  politician, 
aspiring  to  rule  everything,  incapable  of  subordination, 
etc.,  etc.  Manon  replied  that  these  reproaches  simply 
amounted  to  a  demonstration  that  the  Intend  ants  had 
been  piqued  by  the  energy  of  an  enlightened  man 
whose  opinions  were  all  of  them  the  result  of  toil  and 
experience,  who  believed  it  his  duty  to  tell  the  truth 
at  any  cost,  and  who  expressed  himself  forcibly;  but 
that,  on  one  side,  they,  the  Rolands,  could  offer  much 
actual  work  and  useful  suggestions,  and,  on  the  other 
side,  they  could  not  present  a  single  fact  in  proof  of 
so  many  vague  accusations.  Tolozan  answered  that,  as 
to  Roland's  writings,  many  inspectors  have  furnished 
memoirs  which  were  considered  quite  as  important. 

*'We  fought  long  and  hard;  it  is  impossible  to  write 
all  these  pettinesses.  To  sum  up:  you  are  a  good  in- 
spector, nothing  more;  an  honorable  man  with  talent, 
but  you  must  be  in  the  first  place."  M.  de  Tolozan 
feared,  also,  that  if  Roland  was  accorded  a  title  all 
the  other  inspectors  would  solicit  one. 

"But,"  replied  Madame  Roland,  "all  have  not  the 
same  rights  to  it;  a  noble  family  and  published  works." 
She  tried  to  make  Tolozan  distinguish  between  the 
actual   inspectorship    and    the   writings    and    reforms 


FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS  235 

which  Roland  had  added  to  its  duties.  "But  then  if 
you  separate  these  things  it  will  be  as  a  literary  man 
[that  Roland  will  be  ennobled]."  "Have  letters  of 
nobility  ever  been  given  to  a  man  of  letters?"  asked 
Tolozan  scornfully.  "Why  not.?"  replied  Manon  in- 
trepidly; "they  are  given  to  a  paper-seller  who  made  a 
balloon.  '  "My  vilain  laughed  like  a  grimacing  monkey. 
In  the  end  he  personally  greatly  desired  that  inspectors 
generally  might  aspire  to  this  distinction,  and  that 
you  especially  might  attain  it.  Finally,  he  advised 
me  to  see  these  gentlemen  [the  other  Intendants].  He 
added  that  I  [Manon]  serve  you  very  well;  it  is  a  plea- 
sure to  hear  me.  He  praised  my  enthusiasm  that 
honors  me.  *No,  monsieur,  it  honors  my  husband.  If 
it  is  true  that  there  is  no  hero  for  his  valet  de  chambre, 
it  is  rather  strange  that  this  man  whom  you  blame 
for  a  disposition  that  makes  you  forget  his  talents, 
his  work,  and  his  zeal  should  be  to  his  wife  in  every 
respect  the  most  distinguished  and  venerable  of  beings.' 
The  bear  answered  me  rather  wittily,  but  I  will  tell 
you  all  that  another  day.  ...  I  believe  that  I  have 
seen  the  crossest  of  them;  it  is  not  possible  that  the 
others  can  say  anything  worse;  he  meantime  warned 
me  that  M.  B[londel]  would  say  as  much  to  me,  and 
M.  M[ontaran]  a  little  more." 

Blondel  and  Montaran  proved  gentler  and  far  more 
courteous,  but  Manon  preferred  the  honest  roughness 
of  M.  de  Tolozan  to  their  quiet  opposition.  "Would 
you  believe  that  he  who  shouted  at  me  inspires  me 
with  more  confidence  than  the  others  who  were  civil 
to  me,  and  who  did  not  seem  frank  ?  Under  his 
brusqueness  there  is  the  openness  of  which  he  is  proud. 


236  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

He  may  act  in  our  favor  because  he  is  as  deeply  per- 
suaded of  the  good  that  he  admits  as  of  the  evil  that 
he  reproaches  you  with.  I  remember  that  M.  Mon- 
taran,  modifying  what  I  recalled  to  him  of  his  letter, 
said  it  meant  only  that  you  were  made  for  the  first 
place,  and  were  not  suited  to  your  own.  To  M.  Blon- 
del,  who  made  so  many  observations  to  me  on  the 
necessity  of  yielding  to  circumstances,  of  respecting 
conventions  in  order  not  to  offend  any  one,  etc.,  I 
answered  that  I  knew  very  well  that  in  society,  as  on 
the  stage,  the  savoir  vivre  of  Philinte  was  considered 
more  agreeable  than  the  virtue  of  Alceste  [Le  Misan- 
thrope of  Moliere],  but  that  no  one  had  ever  thought 
that  the  latter  deserved  to  be  punished  for  his  austerity, 
and  you  were  for  yours. "     (April  24.) 

Manon,  in  spite  of  her  admiration  for  Alceste- 
Roland's  inflexibility,  adroitly  profited  by  the  criti- 
cisms of  the  Intendants  to  preach  mildness  and  cour- 
tesy to  him,  and  to  point  out  his  shortcomings. 
"Finally,  all  that  I  can  tell  you  is  that  if  you  are  careful 
about  your  correspondence,  if  you  are  more  gentle,  or 
if  you  will  let  me  do  it  for  only  six  months,  at  the  end 
of  that  time  a  general  inspectorship  will  be  due,  and 
I  wish  to  have  it.  But,  above  everything,  as  I  said 
to  you  before  leaving,  do  not  get  angry  in  your  letters, 
or  else  let  me  see  them  before  you  send  them.  You 
must  not  offend  these  people.  Your  pride  is  known 
well  enough,  now  show  them  your  good  nature.  .  .  . 
Mon  hon  ami^  these  people  are  not  so  bad.  They  were 
ruffled,  and  the  dryness  of  your  style  [of  writing]  has 
done  all  the  harm,  making  them  believe  that  you  had 
a  terrible  disposition  and  intolerable  pretensions.      I 


FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS  237 

assure  you  that  they  [the  Intendants]  can  be  man- 
aged." 

They  could  be  by  one  who  wore  her  thirty  years  as 
lightly  as  though  they  were  twenty  odd,  and  whose 
voice  was  mellow  and  tunable  enough  to  plead  a  far 
worse  cause  with  some  measure  of  success.  Reason- 
able, patient,  always  ready  with  a  reply  or  an  expla- 
nation, candid  almost  to  indiscretion,  her  "sweetness 
and  gentle  breeding"  advanced  Roland's  suit  more 
effectually  than  his  essay  on  "Sheep"  or  his  improve- 
ments in  the  manufacture  of  cotton  velvet.  ''  Elle  est 
etonnante"  was  the  general  verdict;  still,  even  Manon's 
eyes  and  arguments  could  not  turn  the  tide  of  favor 
or  arrest  the  movement  of  the  political  machine.  A 
few  visits  to  the  Intendants,  several  answers  to  her 
searching  questions,  assured  her  that  more  money  and 
more  influence  than  she  could  command  were  essential 
to  success. 

By  mid-May,  disappointed  but  not  discouraged,  she 
had  decided  to  give  up  the  title  and  go  back  to  Amiens, 
returning  later  to  Paris  to  ask  for  a  retiring  pension 
at  a  more  favorable  moment.  She  had  already  begun 
a  round  of  farewell  visits,  when  M.  Montaran's  secre- 
tary gave  her  some  news  that  revived  her  hopes.  Her 
first  battle  was  lost,  but  there  was  time  to  win  another. 

A  protege  of  the  Due  de  Liancourt,  Lazowsky,  had 
succeeded  in  pleasing  Calonne,  who  had  just  made  a 
place  for  him.  Lazowsky  had  asked  for  a  general 
inspectorship.  It  is  perhaps  superfluous  to  add  that 
he  possessed  no  training  and  no  capacity  for  so  im- 
portant a  position;  these  considerations  would  not 
have  stood  in  his  way,  but,  unfortunately,  there  was 


238  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

no  place  of  the  kind  vacant.  Therefore,  an  ambulant 
inspectorship  was  invented  for  him,  with  an  annual 
salary  of  eight  thousand  livres ;  to  earn  it  he  was  to 
travel  eight  months  of  the  year  in  the  provhices  and 
spend  four  in  Paris.  In  order  to  justify  the  appoint- 
ment of  an  unknown  and  inexperienced  man  to  such 
a  responsible  office,  three  other  similar  inspectors  were 
named,  who  would  become  general  inspectors  when 
vacancies  occurred,  an  arrangement  which  lent  the 
appointment  a  businesslike  air  and  screened  the  favor- 
ite behind  the  real  workers.  This  general  change  in 
office  left  the  post  at  Lyons  vacant,  and  Manon  in- 
stantly decided  to  ask  for  it.  The  city  was  more  im- 
portant than  Amiens,  the  salary  larger,  the  duties  less 
arduous,  and  Roland's  home  was  near,  where  summers 
and  vacations  could  be  passed.  She  had  no  time  to 
consult  her  husband;  she  must  act  at  once,  or  the  place 
would  be  filled.  She  found  the  inspectors  willing  after 
they  had  denied  so  much  to  grant  a  little,  and  she 
moved  with  so  much  despatch  that  by  May  22  she 
wrote  to  Roland:  "Well,  my  friend,  the  business  is 
done;  we  shall  go  to  Lyons."  There  remained  only  a 
few  details  to  settle,  and  a  few  good-bys  to  say,  among 
them  a  last  visit  to  M.  de  Tolozan.  The  "bear"  was 
then  quite  tamed;  he  gave  Manon  no  end  of  good 
advice  about  "tempering"  Roland's  asperities,  and 
promised  her  his  help  "in  all  her  ambitions,"  adding  in 
a  tone  of  real  feeling:  "This  is  not  a  compliment  to  a 
woman  that  I  am  making  you,  but  a  tribute  that  I 
love  to  pay  to  your  sweetness  and  honesty."  This 
effusion  from  one  usually  so  gruff  brought  the  quick 
tears  to  Manon's  eyes;  and  the  bear's  were  not  dry 


FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS  239 

when  they  parted  after  many  promises  of  future  ser- 
vice on  his  part, 

Manon's  mission  was  over,  and  she  ended  it  appro- 
priately by  a  pilgrimage  to  Rousseau's  tomb  at  Erme- 
nonville.  Her  time  in  Paris  had  not  all  been  filled 
with  business.  She  had  seen  the  Duke  of  Orleans  gal- 
lery {chose  delicieuse  que  je  verrais  et  reverrais  hien  des 
fois);  she  had  heard  Salieri's  Danai'des,  that  she,  like 
everybody  else,  ascribed  to  Gliick.  Of  The  Marriage 
of  Figaro,  which  she  finally  succeeded  in  seeing 
(May  14),  after  many  attempts,  she  wrote,  before 
they  were  successful:  "It  is  a  poor  piece,  full  of  im- 
proprieties, they  tell  me,"  and  again:  "As  to  Figaro, 
I  must  hurry;  they  want  to  make  it  fail  by  spreading 
a  report  that  the  Queen  said  she  should  not  go  to  see 
it  because  the  piece  was  indecent,  and  soon  it  will  be 
the  fashion  for  many  women  not  to  go.  At  least,  that 
is  what  Mile,  de  la  B[elouze]  and  certain  people  be- 
lieve. The  first  time  it  is  given  I  shall  try  not  to  miss 
it."  There  is  no  record  of  her  own  impressions  of  the 
most  brilliant  comedy  ever  written,  more's  the  pity. 

Like  every  provinciale  in  Paris,  Manon  bought  her- 
self a  new  hat,  and  shopped  for  Eudora,  but  she  spent 
more  time  with  Panckoucke,  Roland's  editor,  than 
with  her  hair-dresser,  and  bought  more  books  than 
finery.  Lavater's  work,  which  she  coveted,  was  too 
dear  at  six  louis  for  her  flattened  purse.  Mesmer  and 
his  tub  interested  her,  for  she  hoped  that  the  electrical 
treatment  would  benefit  Roland;  it  was  the  cure-all 
of  the  moment,  and  there  were  clubs  all  over  France 
to  study  it,  though  the  faculty  regarded  Mesmer  as  it 
does  the  modern  osteopath. 


240  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

The  death  of  Bosc's  father  saddened  her  stay  in 
Paris,  and  for  many  days  interrupted  her  place-seek- 
ing. She  squeezed  a  few  piano  lessons  into  her  busy 
hours,  and  spent  one  evening  at  a  concert  of  sacred 
music,  where  in  a  box  adjoining  hers  she  saw  La 
Blancherie.  She  looked  upon  this  idol  of  her  youth 
with  a  convert's  indifference  to  his  late  gods.  La 
Blancherie  did  not  appear  to  recognize  her.  Truly,  a 
tame  finish  to  a  first  fond  adventure. 

The  Rolands  made  a  short  visit  to  England  before 
going  to  Lyons.  On  July  i,  accompanied  by  M.  de 
Vin  and  Lanthenas,  they  left  Amiens.  Manon  made 
short  notes  during  her  English  trip,  which  lasted  only 
three  weeks.  She  was  delighted  with  everything  in 
what  to  her  was  the  land  of  freedom,  and  observed 
everywhere  the  beneficent  effects  of  the  English  con- 
stitution. Her  remarks  show  a  very  practical  ten- 
dency, which  was  due,  no  doubt,  to  her  guide,  Roland. 
The  fat  sheep,  the  huge  turnips,  the  deep,  mossy  turf 
pleased  her  almost  as  much  as  the  brilliant  bloom  and 
virginal  air  of  English  maidens,  in  whom  she  recog- 
nized the  models  for  Clarissa  and  Pamela. 

She  wrote  of  them  to  Bosc:  "Truly,  I  should  like  to 
see  you  in  England;  you  would  be  in  love  with  all  the 
women;  I,  a  female,  was  almost.  These  do  not  resem- 
ble ours  at  all,  and  generally  have  that  shape  of  the 
face  prized  by  Lavater.  I  am  not  astonished  that  a 
man  of  feeling  who  knows  English  women  has  a  voca- 
tion for  Pennsylvania.  Jllez,  believe  me,  any  one 
who  does  not  esteem  the  English  men,  and  feel  a  ten- 
der interest  mingled  with  admiration  for  their  women, 
is  a  coward  or  a  thoughtless  fellow,  or  an  ignorant 


FROM  AMIENS  TO  LYONS  241 

fool  who  speaks  without  knowing  what  he  is  talking 
about." 

The  popularity  of  good  plays,  the  theatres  filled 
with  audiences  of  poor  people  who  were  appreciative 
and  more  enthusiastic  than  the  fine  folk  in  the  boxes, 
surprised  and  interested  her.  She  tasted  English  hos- 
pitality: Roland's  profession  had  brought  him  into  rela- 
tion with  manufacturers  and  men  of  affairs,  who  wel- 
comed a  Frenchman  of  a  type  little  known  to  most 
foreigners,  le  Fran^ais  serieuxy  whose  acquirements 
were  of  that  solid  and  practical  kind  so  much  appre- 
ciated in  England.  In  fine,  it  was  a  rose-hued  view  of 
perfidious  Albion  that  Madame  Roland  brought  back 
to  France. 

The  last  few  days  in  Amiens  were  saddened  by  a 
misunderstanding  with  Sophie's  husband,  but  this  was 
the  only  shadow  on  a  sunny  outlook,  for  when  the 
last  cases  were  corded,  the  last  trunk  closed,  the  Roland 
family,  bonne,  baby,  bundles,  and  all,  set  out  for  a 
round  of  farewell  visits  to  relatives  and  friends  (Au- 
gust 23).  They  travelled  in  their  own  cabriolet,  and 
experienced  the  usual  vicissitudes  of  wayfarers,  the 
wettings  and  breakdowns  that  supplied  our  forefathers* 
journeys  with  picturesque  incident.  They  stopped  at 
Rouen,  Dieppe,  Paris,  Longpont,  and  Dijon,  on  their 
devious  way  to  Villefranche,  where  they  stayed  but 
a  day,  and  then  hurried  on  to  the  Clos  to  rest  and 
enjoy  the  vintage  festival  (October  3). 


CHAPTER    XII 
LE    CLOS,    VILLEFRANCHE,    AND    LYONS 

The  Clos  de  la  Platiere,  where  Manon  lived  an 
ideal  country  life  for  several  happy  j^ears  (1786-91), 
is  still  in  the  possession  of  her  great-granddaughter, 
Mme.  Marillier,  though  it  has  recently  been  offered  for 
sale.  The  passing  of  a  century  and  a  quarter  had 
brought  few  changes  when  I  visited  the  Clos,  some 
years  ago,  and  the  drawing  made  by  the  Rolands' 
friend  Albert  Gosse,  in  1786,  differs  little  from  the 
modern  photographs  of  the  house  and  garden. 

The  Clos,  as  the  whole  estate,  vineyards,  farm,  and 
buildings  is  called,  is  situated  in  the  commune  of 
Theize,  ten  kilometres  from  Villefranche  on  the  Saone. 
I  drove  one  pleasant  morning  in  early  June  on  the  same 
winding,  climbing  road  that  the  Rolands'  cabriolet 
followed  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago.  This  road, 
firm  and  hard  as  marble,  led  from  the  dull  little  town 
along  the  edge  of  a  valley.  Spring  had  clothed  the 
meadows  with  a  royal  mantle  of  living  green,  powdered 
with  purple  blossoms  of  mint  and  regal  fleur-de-lis, 
but  the  low,  steep  hills  thriftily  divided  among  many 
hands  into  numberless  small  fields  wore  a  coat  of 
shreds  and  patches.  They  were  not  so  highly  culti- 
vated in  Madame  Roland's  time,  and  the  forests  had 
not  fallen  back  before  the  all-conquering  vine. 

242 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    243 

We  soon  ceased  to  skirt  the  valley,  and  began  to 
climb  the  foot-hills  of  the  Beaujolais  range.  As  we 
rose,  a  broad,  billowing  expanse  of  country  rolling 
upward  towards  distant  heights  was  revealed,  a  coun- 
try sober  in  contour,  rich  in  color.  The  sharp  curves 
of  the  hillsides,  vine-clad  to  their  summits,  lent  variety 
to  the  landscape,  but  it  was  grave  and  glowing  rather 
than  picturesque  or  romantic.  The  warm,  mellow 
tone  of  the  whole  region  is  due  to  the  color  of  the  stone 
universally  used  for  building  material,  and  of  the  soil 
that  seems  to  be  this  same  stone  pulverized. 

The  earth  is  a  rich  red,  the  stone  when  freshly  quar- 
ried a  brilliant  ochre,  toning  with  age  to  terra-cotta, 
russet,  and  finally,  through  half  a  dozen  intermediate 
tints,  to  a  delicate  grayish  purple,  as  though  the  Lyon- 
nais,  proud  of  its  antiquity,  cherishing  its  classical 
heritage,  still  wrapped  itself  in  the  rags  of  its  Roman 
mantle.  More  recent  memories  are  not  lacking.  The 
countryside  is  closely  populated,  and  the  villages, 
built  of  large  square  stones,  follow  one  another  like 
the  beads  of  a  broken  necklace.  A  great  deal  of  liv- 
ing has  been  done,  much  history  has  been  made  in 
these  uplands,  and  each  hamlet  shows  a  tower,  a 
church,  or  a  shrine.  There  are  more  towers,  rising 
strong  and  dark,  on  distant  heights,  built  in  that 
Romanesque  style  that  seems  so  naturally  the  sturdy 
successor  of  the  Roman;  indeed,  the  whole  landscape 
has  something  of  Roman  dignity  and  restraint. 

As  we  toiled  upward  the  vineyards  climbed  with  us, 
all  light-soaked,  warmest  golden  green  as  the  sun 
slanted  through  them,  and  turned  the  groves  of  oak  to 
spots  of  cool  color  and  the  rare  hay-fields  to  pale, 


244  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

pearly  gray.  The  vines  have  routed  the  trees,  save 
these  stout  oaks,  invaded  the  gardens,  and  taken  pos- 
session of  the  soil,  crov,  ding  out  the  grain  and  pasture- 
lands  that  the  Rolands  saw  in  their  many  journeys 
to  and  from  Le  CIos.  We  passed  long  files  of  heavy 
wagons,  laden  with  wine-casks,  and  teams  of  beautiful 
white  oxen  with  padded  foreheads  as  we  cHmbed  to 
the  hamlet  of  Theize. 

It  clung  to  its  mountain  ridge,  a  pinky-yellow  mass 
of  houses,  a  chateau  shorn  of  its  tower,  and  a  little 
chapel.  Well  below  it  in  a  dip  of  the  hill  nestled  a 
tiny  burg;  at  the  end  of  its  only  street  rose  a  high, 
yellow  wall  and  a  lofty  gate  guarded  by  chestnut- 
trees,  which  might  have  been  the  entrance  to  a  con- 
vent or  a  barracks.  This  was  Le  Clos,  truly  well 
named. 

Beyond  the  gate  lay  a  grassy  court,  surrounded  by 
stone  outbuildings — grange,  barn,  the  utile  of  a  coun- 
try-seat; on  the  other  side  of  the  house  stretched  the 
dulce,  an  English  garden,  enclosed  on  two  sides  by  a 
broad  stone  terrace,  with  orange  and  lemon  trees  in 
tubs.  To  the  right,  beyond  the  garden,  lay  the  orchard 
and  vineyard;  to  the  left,  on  the  other  side  of  a  narrow 
lane,  the  kitchen-garden.  The  trees,  chestnuts  and 
sycamores,  with  a  solemn  hemlock  here  and  there, 
are  newcomers  since  Manon's  time,  but  the  flowering 
shrubs  and  hlacs,  and  the  long  hedge  of  the  strange, 
striped  Provence  roses,  which  made  the  sweet  June  air 
sweeter,  were  hers,  and  close  at  hand  in  the  vegetable- 
garden  were  the  descendants  of  those  artichokes  and 
fruits  that  she  besought  Bosc  to  help  her  save  from 
beetles  and  caterpillars.     From  the  lower  terrace  she 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    245 

must  have  looked  down  over  a  vast  expanse  of  country 
that  has  hardly  changed  in  aspect  since  Louis  XVI 
was  king.  Some  towers  have  been  razed,  some  villas 
and  chateaux  added,  and  the  vines  have  swept  all 
before  them.  But  the  streamlet  of  Beauvallon  runs, 
a  slender  thread  of  silver,  at  the  foot  of  the  hillside,  the 
chapel  of  Saint  Hippolite,  the  chateau  of  Brossette,  hold 
their  old  place  in  the  wide  prospect  that  is  humanized, 
as  are  the  landscapes  of  the  Old  World,  by  tradition 
and  association,  Manon's  dark-locked,  white-robed  fig- 
ure is  only  one  of  a  procession  that  memory  marshals 
here,  where  Roman  legionary  and  Saracen  invader  and 
Louis  XIV  poet  follow  each  other,  Boileau  as  near 
Manon  in  point  of  time  when  she  looked  across  the 
wall  down  into  the  valley  as  she  is  to  us  to-day.  Her 
shade  should  walk  in  the  garden,  for  she  loved  it;  the 
flowers  and  fruit  were  her  special  care,  and  the  evenings 
of  busy  days  were  often  spent  strolling  on  the  terrace 
to  breathe  the  sweet-scented  air.  Sometimes,  in  rare, 
perfect  hours,  when  the  air  was  crystal-clear,  there 
floated  into  her  charmed  sight  a  wonderful  iridescent 
mountain  peak,  the  glittering  crest  of  Mont  Blanc  ris- 
ing in  the  east  above  the  clouds  like  a  fata  morgana. 
The  day  I  spent  at  the  Clos  was  warm,  a  light  mist 
veiled  even  the  distant  ranges  of  the  Beaujolais,  and 
naturally  the  "Cat  Mountain,"  as  the  peasants  pro- 
saically call  the  *' dread  and  silent  mount,"  remained 
invisible. 

The  exterior  of  the  Roland  house,  built  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  eighteenth  centur}^,  of  the  usual  type — a 
main  building  {corps  de  batiment)  flanked  by  a  pavilion 
at  either  end  and  roofed  with  red  tiles — has  remained 


246  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

unchanged.  Few  alterations  have  been  made  in  the 
commodious,  airy  rooms;  Madame  Roland's  chamber, 
with  its  heavily  beamed  ceiling,  and  its  wide  view  from 
the  small-paned,  low  windows,  has  never  been  re- 
arranged, and  one  room  is  still  called  "/a  chambre  de 
Lanthenas." 

Many  things  remain  that  have  known  the  touch  of 
vanished  hands — the  brass  wall-fountain  in  the  din- 
ing-room, the  canon's  silver  crucifix,  long  buried  in 
the  garden,  and  disinterred  only  when  the  revolution- 
ary storm  had  abated;  books  with  Roland's  name  in 
them,  arms  collected  by  him  in  the  billiard-room,  and 
his  bust  by  Chinard.  There  are  few  family  portraits; 
Madame  Roland's  are  at  La  Rosiere,  the  La  Tour 
pastels  of  M.  and  Mme.  PhHpon  have  been  sent  to 
the  museum  in  Lyons.  There  remain  only  an  oil- 
painting  of  the  canon  and  a  lovely  head  of  an  unknown 
woman. 

The  tempest  of  the  Terror  swept  through  this  quiet 
place,  dispersing  its  modest  treasures.  Though  the 
wax  seals  of  the  revolutionary  emissaries  are  still 
shown  on  some  of  the  doors,  they  did  not  protect  the 
property  from  pillage  by  the  people  whom  the  owners 
had  nursed  and  taught.  The  house  was  looted,  and 
the  furniture  was  carried  off  by  the  peasants.  "It 
came  from  the  Clos"  was  the  explanation  offered  to 
account  for  any  unusual  luxury  in  the  neighboring 
cottages.  Years  after  the  Terror  the  cure  of  Theize 
returned  to  Eudora  Roland's  husband  a  sum  of  mone)' 
intrusted  to  him  by  a  penitent  who  in  his  youth  had 
robbed  Le  Clos. 

Manon's  happiest  days  were  spent  at  La  Platiere. 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    247 

Her  country  life  was  as  full  of  duties  as  of  dreams; 
there  was  constant  occupation,  even  hard  work,  in- 
doors and  out,  and  those  enchanting  evening  hours 
among  the  roses  on  the  terrace  were  the  crown  of  her 
labors.  "In  the  country,"  she  wrote  Bosc,  "I  for- 
give everything.  When  you  know  I  am  there  you  are 
permitted  to  show  just  what  you  are  while  you  are 
writing;  you  may  be  eccentric,  you  may  preach  to  me, 
you  may  be  gruff,  if  you  like.  I  have  plenty  of  indul- 
gence, and  my  friendship  tolerates  every  mood  and 
harmonizes  with  every  tone." 

Perhaps  one  reason  for  this  gay  good  humor  was 
that  in  the  country  Manon  was  mistress  of  her  own 
household,  for  the  grumbling  mother-in-law  remained 
in  Villefranche,  and,  after  shilly-shallying  for  several 
years,  Dominique,  the  eldest  brother,  ceded  the  Clos 
to  the  Rolands.  The  letters  to  Bosc  and  to  her  hus- 
band during  Manon's  long  villeggiatura  express  her 
lively  interest  and  active  participation  in  country  pur- 
suits and  pleasures.  With  her  wonted  energy  she  gave 
herself  to  her  new  vocation  of  lady-farmer,  and  applied 
her  intelligence  to  the  practical  details  of  rural  life. 
Here  she  also  realized  her  ideal,  the  love  in  a  cottage 
that  Rousseau  had  pictured  so  winningly.  Indeed,  she 
never  seemed  so  unconscious,  so  spontaneously  joyous, 
as  during  those  long,  sweet  summers  at  Le  Clos.  She 
had  always  loved  nature;  there  she  studied  nature. 
The  wonder  and  delight,  the  "delicious  tears,"  the 
exaltation  of  her  girlhood  in  the  forest  of  Meudon 
returned  to  her.  But,  as  always  with  Manon,  action 
accompanied  emotion.  A  keen  observer  and  a  seeker 
for  causes,  her  studies  in  botany  and  natural  history 


248  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

were  revived  and  applied  to  her  garden  and  orchard; 
Rousseau  made  way  for  Linnaeus.  Bosc  was  her  men- 
tor, and  her  letters  to  him  were  filled  with  questions 
that  give  us  a  high  opinion  of  the  diversity  and  extent 
of  his  knowledge,  and  the  letters  are  not  all  those  of  an 
amateur  agriculturist.  They  are  the  blithest  Manon 
ever  penned;  sometimes  they  are  as  frolicsome  as 
though  she  had  dipped  her  quill  in  the  foam  of  the 
must: 

"Eh  !  Bonjour  done,  notre  ami  !  It  is  a  long  time 
since  I  wrote  to  you,  but  it  is  almost  a  month  since  I 
have  touched  a  pen.  I  am  imbibing  some  of  the  tastes 
of  the  beast  whose  milk  is  restoring  my  health.  I  am 
growing  dreadfully  asinine,  and  busy  myself  with  all 
the  little  cares  of  piggish  country  life.  I  am  preserv- 
ing pears,  which  will  be  delicious,  we  are  drying  grapes 
and  plums,  we  are  bleaching  and  making  up  linen. 
We  lunch  on  white  wine,  and  then  lie  on  the  grass  to 
sleep  ourselves  sober;  we  work  at  the  vintage,  and 
rest  after  it  in  the  woods  or  in  the  fields.  We  are 
shaking  down  the  nuts;  we  have  gathered  all  the  fruits 
for  winter,  and  have  spread  them  out  in  the  attics. 
.  .  .  We  make  the  Doctor  (Lanthenas)  work.  Heaven 
knows.  Good-by,  we  must  breakfast  and  afterwards 
go  in  a  crowd  to  gather  almonds. 

"  Saluty  sante  et  amitie  pardessus  tout."  (October 
12,  1787.) 

"Hang  thyself,  greedy  Crillon !  We  are  making 
preserves  and  mulled  wine,  resinet  (sic),  dried  pears, 
and  bonbons,  and  you  are  not  here  to  taste  them  !  Such 
are  my  occupations  at  present,  my  elegant  friend,  and 
meantime  we  are  busy  with  the  vintage."  (October  i, 
1788.) 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    249 

Even  after  the  tocsin  of  the  Revolution  had  roused 
an  echo  in  Manon's  heart,  nature,  springtime,  the 
vernal  landscape  charmed  her  to  forgetfulness  of  pub- 
lic affairs. 

"A  truce  to  politics  !  .  .  .  The  weather  is  delicious; 
in  six  days  the  country  has  changed  so  that  it  is  un- 
recognizable: the  vines  and  the  walnut-trees  were  as 
black  as  they  are  in  winter;  the  waving  of  a  magic 
wand  could  not  have  changed  the  aspect  of  everything 
more  completely  than  has  the  warmth  of  a  few  fine 
days;  everything  is  growing  green  and  bursting  into 
leaf.  ...  I  would  willingly  forget  public  affairs  and 
human  discussions,  contented  to  put  my  house  in  or- 
der and  watch  my  hens  lay,  and  to  care  for  our  rab- 
bits. I  wish  to  think  no  more  of  the  revolutions  of 
empires."     (May  17,  1790.) 

There  was  justification  for  Manon's  enthusiasm. 
Toil  in  field  and  vineyard  had  kept  something  of  an- 
tique Virgilian  grace.  The  vintage  was  hardly  changed 
since  its  first-fruits  were  hung  on  Liber's  altar.  Disci- 
pline was  relaxed,  and  the  workers  drank  freely  of  the 
new  wine,  even  the  babies  revelled  in  the  must,  and 
tumbled  and  sprawled  like  the  abandoned  infants  of 
a  carven  bacchanal.  The  great  white  oxen,  with  their 
fragrant  burdens  and  vine-crowned  heads,  the  splashed 
peasants  bending  under  the  big  baskets  of  grapes,  the 
purple-stained  casks  foaming  over  on  to  the  wine-soaked 
earth,  would  not  have  been  unfamiliar  to  an  old  Ro- 
man ghost  revisiting  his  farm. 

Like  all  good  housewives,  Manon  shared  the  arduous 
delights  of  une  grande  lessive,  when  an  acre  of  grass  dis- 
appeared under  home-spun  linen  drying  and  bleaching 


2SO  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

under  a  noonday  sun,  and  the  huge  sheets  flapped  like 
sails  on  their  lines;  when  down  at  the  brook-side  the 
washerwomen  pounded  and  soaped  and  rinsed  to  an 
animated  accompaniment  of  gossip  and  laughter. 
Later,  basketful  after  basketful,  overflowing  with 
snowy  masses  of  linen,  was  carried  up  to  the  press- 
room, counted  and  carefully  laid  away  in  trim  piles, 
between  sprigs  of  vervain  and  lavender,  for  the  chate- 
laine knew  her  napkins  by  heart,  and  called  each  sheet 
by  name.  It  was  a  sweet,  wholesome  task,  not  unfit 
for  gentle  ladies;  even  to-day  Nausicaa  does  not  seem 
very  far  away  from  a  grande  lessive  in  the  South. 

On  Ascension  Day  fell  the  local  fete  or  the  Vogue  of 
Theize,  when  peasants  from  all  over  the  countryside 
gathered  at  the  Clos  for  a  merrymaking.  This  May 
festival  is  probably  a  survival  of  some  pagan  holiday 
when  the  sacrificial  far  or  wheat-cake  was  borne  in  a 
solemn  progress  through  the  fields  and  gardens,  for  the 
principal  ceremony  of  the  Vogue  is  still  the  carrying  of 
a  huge  brioche  around  the  premises  in  a  dignified  pro- 
cession, "musique  en  tete,'  fifes,  violins,  and  bagpipes; 
afterwards,  in  reverent  silence,  the  brioche  is  cut  and 
distributed  by  the  chief  of  the  Vogue,  and  the  dancing 
begins.  The  fete  lasts  two  days,  and  is  still  held  at  Le 
Clos,  Madame  Roland's  great-granddaughter  presid- 
ing over  it. 

But  it  was  not  only  for  a  merrymaking  that  the 
country  folk  came  to  the  manor;  its  mistress,  like  the 
chatelaine  of  the  castle,  was  the  physician,  often  the 
nurse,  of  the  peasants.  She  dispensed  tisanes  and 
poultices  and  simple  drugs,  she  took  long  rides  on 
horseback  to  visit  the  sick,  she  was  the  Lady  Bountiful 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    251 

of  Theize  and  Boitier.  In  prison  one  of  her  sweetest 
memories  was  the  confidence  and  gratitude  of  the 
people  she  had  helped  and  nursed.  "They  loved  me, 
and  my  absence  was  mourned  with  tears." 

There  were  guests,  too,  at  Le  Clos,  and  an  easy, 
informal  hospitality.  These  guests  were  generally 
men.  Lanthenas  was  a  constant  visitor,  and  Bancal 
des  Issarts  was  at  home  there.  Many  of  the  Rolands' 
friends  were  Protestants;  all  were  serious-minded,  with 
cultivated  tastes;  inventors,  pastors,  scientists,  most  of 
them  interesting,  some  of  them  famous.  Though  there 
were  few  women  among  her  visitors,  Manon  promised 
Bosc,  if  he  could  find  time  to  give  her,  **the  society  of 
an  Italian  lady  [Madame  Chevandier],  full  of  spirit, 
grace,  and  talent,"  and  "the  company  of  a  German 
lady  [Madame  Braun,  a  Protestant  of  Mulhouse]  who 
was  naturally  of  a  sweet  disposition,  rather  strict  in 
her  conduct,  which  was  formed  by  republican  stand- 
ards; simple  in  her  manners,  who  united  rare  goodness 
to  an  uncommon  degree  of  learning."  To  the  house- 
parties  were  added  the  petty  nobility  and  the  church- 
men of  the  neighborhood.  There  were  few  luxuries  at 
Le  Clos,  but  the  guests  enjoyed  "perfect  liberty,  whole- 
some food,  excellent  water,  tolerable  wine,  walks  and 
rides,  long  chats,  and  diverting  readings." 

Le  Clos  was  Eudora's  paradise.  There  she  played 
in  the  garden,  gathered  flowers,  "herself  their  elder 
sister,"  as  her  mother  wrote,  hung  about  the  barn, 
and  even  picked  up  an  oath  or  two  when  the  vigilant 
maternal  eye  was  ofi'  her.  She  was  a  mystery  and  a 
trial  to  her  mother;  an  "elf,"  even  a  "demon"  at 
times,  obstinate,  indiflPerent,  lazy,  and  capricious.     Re- 


252  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

proofs,  suppers  of  dry  bread,  whippings,  even  solemn 
sermons  from  an  absent  father,  were  of  no  avail. 
''This  Papa  who  scolds  all  the  time,  ga  m*ennMie,"  she 
replied  to  paternal  remonstrances.  Headstrong  Ro- 
land and  self-willed  Manon  were  amazed  at  their  off- 
spring's wilfulness.  To  Manon  she  seemed  a  change- 
ling at  times,  for  Eudora  shirked  study  and  was  averse 
to  any  mental  effort.  Her  character,  her  tastes,  or 
lack  of  them,  were  incomprehensible  to  her  mother, 
who  remembered  her  own  studious,  docile  childhood. 
Insistence  on  inherited  tendencies  was  not  familiar  to 
philosophers  then,  and  she  failed  to  take  Eudora's 
grandparents  into  account.  She  forgot  the  frivolous 
Grandmama  Roland,  greedy,  exacting,  and  fond  of 
excitement,  and  Papa  Phlipon,  dissipated  and  pleasure- 
loving,  in  her  wonder  over  her  little  girl's  strange 
character.  There  is  rather  a  pathetic  glimpse  of 
Eudora's  babyhood  in  one  of  her  mother's  letters, 
that  may  partly  explain  the  little  one's  dislike  of  books: 
"In  a  study,  between  two  desks,  where  close  applica- 
tion exacts  perfect  quiet,  it  is  natural  that  a  child 
should  be  bored,  above  all,  if  while  she  is  forbidden 
to  sing,  or  to  chatter  to  herself,  or  to  speak  to  us,  she 
is  obliged  to  learn  certain  tasks  that  require  atten- 
tion" (December  i,  1787).  Poor  httle  butterfly, 
fluttering  "between  two  desks"  in  the  dust  of  a 
library.  Was  it  astonishing  that  always  associating 
books  with  enforced  silence  and  immobility,  a  playful 
and  active  young  creature  grew  to  dislike  them  } 

Apparently,  Eudora  was  a  robust,  pretty  child,  pas- 
sionately devoted  to  her  mother,  indolent  and  over- 
fond   of  play,   but   truthful   and   fearless.     She   must 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    253 

have  had  a  fine  constitution  to  resist  the  boluses  and 
bitter  drafts  which  her  apprehensive  parent  con- 
stantly administered  to  her,  and  naturally,  like  all 
healthy  young  animals,  preferred  frolics  to  studies. 
She  loved  to  dance  and  to  draw,  to  sing  and  to  sew, 
to  use  her  hands  and  feet  instead  of  her  head.  Though 
she  was  perverse,  she  adored  her  mother  and  reverenced 
her  father.  In  fine,  a  roguish,  affectionate,  brave  lit- 
tle romp,  who  would  have  more  than  satisfied  many 
mothers,  and  to-day  would  have  been  the  pride  of  a 
kindergarten.  Madame  Roland  acknowledged  rather 
sadly  that,  if  she  could  have  given  all  her  time  to 
Eudora's  education,  the  child's  indifference  and  lack 
of  industry  might  have  been  overcome,  but  Manon 
was  a  wife  before  she  was  a  mother,  and  Roland's 
claims  upon  her  time  came  first.  Rousseau,  rever- 
ently consulted,  for  once  yielded  no  message  for  his 
disciple  (December  i,  1787).  In  his  educational 
scheme  parents  had  no  occupations  or  duties  in  life 
other  than  the  care  and  training  of  their  offspring. 
This  was  an  impossible  ideal  for  Manon,  scribe  and 
house-mistress,  to  strive  for;  she  resolved,  however, 
never  to  lose  her  temper  with  the  little  tease,  to  pun- 
ish her  impersonally  and  judicially  when  punishment, 
alas,  was  necessary,  and  above  all  to  try  to  make 
Eudora  happier  with  her  parents  than  with  any  one 
else.  She  succeeded  admirably  in  becoming  her 
daughter's  best  friend  and  confidant,  and  her  most 
amusing  companion.  But  she  failed  to  inspire  enthu- 
siasm for  study  or  effort. 

How  had  Manon  failed  in  her  duty  ?     Was  she  to 
blame  for  Eudora's  insensibility  to  the  fine  things  of 


254  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

life  ?  How  could  her  interest  in  them  be  awakened  ? 
Manon  asked  herself  and  others.  Her  frankness  in 
regard  to  her  disappointment  seems  Hke  insensibility; 
it  is  in  reality  an  anxious  seeking  for  an  open  sesame 
to  a  torpid  mind  and  an  insouciant  disposition.  She 
sought  advice  from  Lavater  (July  7,  1788)  and  other 
savants,  and  experimented  with  different  systems  and 
environments.  But  Eudora  remained  obdurate.  The 
mild  discipline  of  the  convent  of  the  Visitation,  the 
gentle  influence  of  Pastor  Frossard's  cultivated  house- 
hold, left  her  unchanged.  She  continued  to  resist 
instruction. 

"We  must  not  deceive  ourselves;  your  daughter  is 
affectionate.  She  loves  me,  she  will  be  gentle;  but  she 
has  not  an  idea,  no  grain  of  memory.  She  looks  as 
though  she  had  just  left  her  nurse,  and  gives  no  prom- 
ise of  intellect.  She  has  embroidered  a  work-bag  for 
me  prettily  and  does  a  little  needlework;  otherwise  she 
has  developed  no  tastes,  and  I  begin  to  believe  we 
must  not  persist  in  expecting  much,  still  less  in  exact- 
ing it,"  Manon  wrote  Roland  in  1791.  She  was  bit- 
terly disappointed.  She  had  looked  forward  so  eagerly 
to  teaching  her  child,  to  studying  with  her,  to  reviving 
her  old  accomplishments  for  Eudora.  Manon's  pride 
suffered  as  well  as  her  affection.  But,  though  clear- 
sighted, she  was  never  lacking  in  tenderness.  Eudora's 
cough  ''rends"  her  heart.  She  "hates"  Le  Clos  after 
a  viper  has  been  discovered  in  the  garden,  because 
Eudora  might  have  been  bitten.  Daily  bulletins  of 
the  child's  health  were  sent  to  Roland  and  to  Bosc. 
Manon  wished  that  the  latter  might  have  a  Eudora  of 
his  own,  and  if  only  a  man  like  him  in  eighteen  years 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    255 

from  then  could  think  so  too — she  might  sing  her  Nunc 
Dimittis. 

Match-making  already  !  Manon  was  true  to  the  tra- 
ditions of  her  people.  She  had  already  tried  her  hand 
at  the  business,  and  had  persuaded  the  tepid  Sophie 
to  accept  the  withered  hand  of  an  aged  captain  of 
grenadiers,  the  Chevalier  Pierre  Dragon  de  Gomie- 
court,  in  1782.  Two  years  afterwards  Manon  advo- 
cated the  marriage  of  the  brilliant  Henriette  to  a 
widower  of  seventy-seven  years,  the  bigoted,  haughty 
Seigneur  de  Vouglans,  who  had  written  a  bloodthirsty 
refutation  of  Beccaria  !  Mademoiselle  Phlipon  had  de- 
tested this  upholder  of  ancient  abuses,  and  expressed 
her  feelings  freely  in  her  letters  to  Henriette.  Great 
must  have  been  the  reverence  of  Madame  Roland  for 
the  holy  estate,  for  M.  de  Vouglans  in  becoming  a 
parti  for  her  friend  lost  all  his  terrors.  Was  the  girl's 
standard  so  much  higher  than  the  matron's  because 
experience  had  hardened  and  blunted  her .?  Was  the 
idealist  growing  sensible  ?  Or  did  she  feel  that  the 
freedom  and  dignity  conferred  by  marriage  were  worth 
many  sacrifices  ?  French  society  had  no  place  for  the 
old  maid,  and  January  often  wed  with  May. 

There  had  been  in  those  first  autumn  days  at  Le 
Clos  a  fly  in  Manon's  box  of  balm,  a  misunderstanding 
with  Bosc  that  dragged  along  for  half  a  year.  Bosc's 
father  had  treated  Roland  by  letter;  after  the  physi- 
cian's death  (April  4,  1784)  Madame  Roland,  as  her 
husband's  health  had  not  improved,  consulted  another 
doctor.  Bosc  took  this  fancied  slight  to  his  father's 
science  deeply  to  heart.  He  left  his  friends  suddenly 
and  coldly  (September  23,  1784),  and  for  many  months 


256  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

answered  Manon's  propitiatory  letters,  even  Roland's 
affectionate  pleading,  briefly  and  dryly.  Naturally  ex- 
tremely sensitive  and  rather  exacting,  Bosc  was  at  the 
time  of  the  quarrel  in  an  unwonted  state  of  nervous 
excitability. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  during  Manon's  stay  in  Paris 
Bosc's  friendship  and  admiration  for  her  had  quickened 
into  another  feeling.  His  father's  death  and  the  new 
responsibilities  it  laid  on  his  young  shoulders,  his  respect 
for  Manon,  his  affection  for  Roland,  his  family  tradi- 
tions of  honor,  and  his  own  fine  ideals,  while  they  welded 
his  nascent  passion  into  a  noble  form,  were  potent  for 
unhappiness.  The  poor  boy,  for  he  was  one  in  years 
though  already  a  savant,  loved  Manon.  The  deep 
melancholy  that  she  ascribed  solely  to  his  bereavement 
had  a  double  cause.  Roland,  whose  manners  with 
younger  men  were  singularly  engaging,  divined  some- 
thing of  Bosc's  complex  emotion,  and  wrote  him 
kindly,  tactful  messages.  Bosc's  misery  found  expres- 
sion in  a  letter  to  Manon  just  after  she  left  Paris  for 
Amiens. 

"Everything  agitates  and  disquiets  me.  Would  you 
believe  that  having  noticed  that  the  word  friend  was 
repeated  more  often  than  formerly  in  your  letters,  my 
piece  of  mind  was  troubled  .?  Good-by.  Be  happy 
always.  Perhaps  I  shall  not  reach  that  degree  of  cor- 
ruption wherein  others'  happiness  is  a  torture  for  us, 
but  I  believe  I  am  on  the  way  to  it;  I  need  some  force 
to  turn  me  back  from  it,"     (June  i,  1784.) 

While  in  this  condition  of  emotional  excitement,  it 
was  only  natural  that  Bosc  should  have  been  easily 
wounded.     Something  of  Manon's  personal  attraction 


<v 


L      A  .  C  .     B05C 


Taken  from  the  mjUi  nt;  /,;•  SiituralisU  Bosc,  by  Auguste  Rey,  publisheJ  at  \ersaillc 
1901,  by  l.ibrairie  Leon  Besnard;  at  Paris,  1901,  by  Librairie  Alphonse  Picard 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    257 

informs  her  letters  to  him  during  the  period  of  his 
estrangement.  She  coaxed,  argued,  scolded,  made 
little  Eudora,  whom  Bosc  was  very  fond  of,  her  moth- 
er's advocate,  and  sturdily  refused  to  take  offense,  or 
to  alter  the  affectionate  tone  of  her  letters.  We  won- 
der that  Bosc  could  have  resisted  such  gentle  pleading. 
Never  was  an  olive-branch  more  ingratiatingly  prof- 
fered. When  he  finally  accepted  Manon's  ''hearty  kiss 
and  good  box  on  the  ear,"  the  peace  pact  was  signed 
for  the  rest  of  their  lives.  Madame  Roland  possessed 
the  rare  gift  of  making  friends  of  her  lovers.  It  is  true 
that  formerly  friendship  was  of  a  warmer  constitution 
than  it  is  to-day,  and  more  closely  resembled  its  dan- 
gerous little  brother.  An  eighteenth-century  Terence 
might  have  written  of  it: 

"In  friendship  are  all  these  evils:  wrongs, 
Suspicions,  enmities,  reconciliations,  war  and  peace." 

Not  that  the  course  of  platonic  affection  ran  per- 
fectly smooth  after  this  episode,  but  Bosc's  feeling  for 
Manon  gradually  grew  purely  fraternal,  and  years 
afterwards  he  had  so  utterly  forgotten  the  confusion 
of  desires  and  the  feverish  longing  which  Manon  her- 
self had  exorcised  so  sweetly,  that  he  could  sincerely 
write:  "Many  people  beheved,  owing  to  my  intimacy 
with  her,  that  our  relations  were  closer,  but  I  w^as 
never  in  love  with  her." 

Though  the  duties  of  Bosc's  post  kept  him  in  Paris, 
Lanthenas  had  plenty  of  leisure  and  spent  a  large 
share  of  it  at  Le  Clos.  He  passed  part  of  the  winter 
in  Lyons  with   Roland.     His  devotion  to  his  friends 


2S8  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

seemed  flawless,  but  the  shock  of  the  Revolution  was 
to  shatter  it — with  much  else  that  appeared  enduring. 

Life  in  Villefranche,  where  part  of  the  year  was 
spent,  was  "very  austere."  The  Rolands  occupied  the 
second  floor  of  the  big  old  family  house,  which  they 
shared  with  the  mother  and  the  eldest  son,  Dominique 
Roland,  a  town  councillor  as  well  as  a  canon,  an 
academician  and  director  of  the  nuns  at  the  hospital. 
A  younger  and  gentler  brother,  Laurent,  was  an  occa- 
sional visitor.  In  spite  of  the  politesse  du  foyevy  the 
hearth-side  courtesy  that  sweetens  domestic  life  in 
France,  there  were  difficult  moments  to  pass  in  the 
Roland  household.  The  mother,  **of  the  age  of  the 
century,"  "venerable  through  her  years,  terrible 
through  her  temper,"  was  as  critical  as  she  was  help- 
less. She  was  given  to  gormandizing,  and  each  "little 
carouse"  was  followed  by  a  short  illness.  She  loved 
company,  gave  dinner  invitations  thoughtlessly,  spent 
most  of  her  time  at  cards,  and  put  Manon's  patience  to 
proof,  who  philosophically  decided  that  Hfe  with  a  hus- 
band like  Roland  would  be  too  happy  to  be  real  without 
some  petty  annoyance;  and,  having  satisfied  herself  that 
the  mama-in-law  had  no  heart,  she  ceased  trying  to 
win  it,  and  took  her  scoldings  and  criticisms  with 
relative  serenity.  Bosc  as  well  as  Roland  was  her 
confidant,  and  all  the  family  jars  were  carried  to  him, 
which  undoubtedly  helped  Manon  to  bear  them. 

Canon  Roland,  too,  was  difficult  to  live  with. 
Though  like  most  of  the  higher  clergy  of  his  century 
he  was  a  man  of  the  world,  with  a  fondness  for  litera- 
ture and  research,  he  was  a  conservative  in  politics,  a 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    259 

dogmatist  in  religion,  and  a  despot  in  disposition. 
Manon  was  on  excellent  terms  with  him;  prejudiced 
and  domineering  as  he  was,  he  had  yielded  to  her 
spell.  One  of  her  methods  of  conciliating  him  was 
rather  questionable,  or  would  have  been  in  another 
age  and  environment.  She  wrote  of  it  to  Bosc  quite 
unabashed:  "I  leave  him  the  satisfaction  of  thinking 
that  his  dogm^as  appear  as  evident  to  me  as  they  seem 
to  him,  and  I  behave  in  a  manner  suitable  to  a  pro- 
vincial mother  of  a  family  who  should  set  a  good 
example  to  all.  As  I  was  very  devout  in  my  first 
youth,  I  know  the  Scriptures  and  even  the  church 
services  as  well  as  my  philosophers,  and  I  willingly 
make  use  of  my  early  learning,  which  edifies  him  very 
much."  This  is  far  from  admirable;  what  follows  is 
still  less  so:  "The  sincerity  and  tenderness  of  my  heart, 
my  facility  in  yielding  for  the  good  of  others,  when  I 
can  do  so  without  offending  truth  and  honesty^  make 
me  what  I  should  be,  quite  naturally,  and  without 
effort.     Keep  this  burst  of  confidence  in  petto.*' 

Not  content  with  confessing  dissimulation,  Manon 
prides  herself  on  it  as  a  proof  of  the  sincerity  of  her 
nature !  A  strange  contradiction  in  a  usually  honest 
and  truthful  person.  It  was  one  she  shared  with  her 
contemporaries.  The  church  was  so  integral  a  part 
of  social  and  national  life  that  to  abstain  from  its  ser- 
vices would  have  caused  a  public  scandal.  Still  to 
conform  to  something  that  it  would  have  been  difficult 
and  even  dangerous  to  oppose  was  hardly  meritorious, 
and  assuredly  offered  no  cause  for  self-gratulation. 
But  Manon  was  a  hardened  offender.  She  had  "edi- 
fied her  neighbor"  by  attending  church  in  her  girlhood 


26o  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

after  she  lost  even  the  wish  to  beHeve,  and  she  con- 
tinued "to  set  a  good  example  to  others"  not  only  at 
Amiens,  Villefranche,  and  Lyons,  but  at  Le  Clos,  where 
the  way  of  the  outward  conformer  was  indeed  hard, 
as  the  village  church  of  Theize  was  only  reached  by  a 
long,  stiff  climb  over  the  rocks. 

The  sleepy,  commonplace  town  of  Villefranche, 
though  it  was  more  picturesque  then  than  now,  with 
its  long  walls  and  fortress-gates,  displeased  the  Pari- 
sienne.  She  never  mentioned  the  marvellously  ornate 
fagade  of  Sainte  Marie  des  Marais,  which  Gothic  art 
had  carved  and  chiselled  like  a  reliquary,  but  then 
she  had  never  referred  to  the  grand  old  cathedral  of 
Amiens.  Perhaps  she,  with  her  contemporaries,  for 
Gothic  read  barbarous.  Her  impressions  of  Ville- 
franche were,  of  course,  communicated  to  Bosc. 

"Here  the  great  luxury  is  that  of  the  table.  The 
smallest  bourgeois  household,  a  little  above  the  com- 
mon people,  offers  more  exquisite  meals  than  the  rich- 
est families  of  Amiens,  and  a  good  many  of  those  in 
easy  circumstances  in  Paris.  A  mean  dwelling,  a  deli- 
cate table,  elegant  dress,  constant  and  heavy  gaming, 
that  is  the  style  of  this  flat-roofed  town,  where  the 
streets  serve  as  drains  for  the  sewage.  On  the  other 
hand,  they  are  not  stupid  here;  they  speak  well,  with- 
out accent  or  solecisms,  the  tone  of  society  is  courteous 
and  agreeable,  but  they  are  a  little — that  is  to  say,  a 
great  deal — short  of  cultivation.  .  .  .  Here  is  the 
opposite  of  Amiens;  there  the  women  are  generally 
better  than  the  men;  here,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the 
women  who  show  their  provincial  varnish  most 
plainly."     (April  22,  1785.) 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    261 

Of  her  domestic  life  Madame  Roland  wrote:  "You 
ask  me  what  I  am  doing,  and  you  do  not  believe  that 
I  have  the  same  occupations  as  I  had  at  Amiens.  I 
have  truly  less  leisure  to  devote  myself  to  the  latter, 
or  to  combine  them  with  agreeable  studies.  I  am 
now,  above  all  else,  a  housewife,  and  I  don't  lack  busi- 
ness of  this  kind.  My  brother  wishes  me  to  take 
care  of  the  house,  which  his  mother  had  not  kept  for 
years,  and  which  he  was  tired  of  keeping  or  of  leaving 
partly  to  the  servants. 

"This  is  the  way  my  time  is  employed.  After  rising 
I  busy  myself  with  my  husband  and  child;  I  have  one 
of  them  read  while  I  give  them  both  their  breakfast; 
then  I  leave  them  together  in  the  study,  or  only  the 
little  one  with  her  nurse,  when  the  papa  is  absent,  and 
I  inspect  all  the  business  of  the  household,  from  the 
cellar  to  the  attic — the  fruits,  wine,  linen,  and  other 
details  provide  me  with  some  new  care  every  day. 
If  there  is  time  before  dinner  (and  note  that  we  dine 
at  noon,  and  we  must  be  tidy,  because  we  are  apt  to 
have  company  that  the  mama  loves  to  invite)  I  spend 
it  in  the  study  in  the  work  that  I  have  always  shared 
with  my  husband.  After  dinner  we  remain  together 
for  some  time,  and  I  always  stay  with  my  mother-in- 
law  until  she  has  visitors;  in  the  interval  I  sew. 

"As  soon  as  I  am  free  I  go  up-stairs  to  the  study, 
and  begin  or  continue  to  write.  When  evening  comes 
the  good  brother  joins  us;  we  read  the  newspapers  or 
something  better;  occasionally  several  men  come  in. 
If  it  is  not  I  who  am  the  reader,  I  sew  quietly  while 
listening,  and  I  take  care  that  the  child  does  not  in- 
terrupt us,  for  she  never  leaves  us  except  during  some 


262  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

formal  meal,  when  as  I  wish  that  she  should  not 
annoy  any  one,  and  that  no  one  should  pay  attention 
to  her,  she  stays  in  her  room,  or  goes  out  with  the 
nurse,  and  does  not  appear  until  dessert  is  over.  I 
make  only  such  visits  as  are  absolutely  necessary;  I 
go  out  sometimes,  though  rarely  until  now,  to  walk 
in  the  afternoon  with  my  husband  and  Eudora. 

"With  some  shades  of  difference,  each  day  sees  me 
go  around  the  same  circle.  English,  Italian,  trans- 
porting music,  all  these  are  left  far  behind.  These  are 
tastes  and  acquirements  that  remain  under  the  ashes, 
where  I  shall  find  them  again  to  teach  my  Eudora  as 
she  develops." 

This  domesticity  was  not  without  diversions.  The 
mama  saw  company  daily,  and  occasionally  there  was 
a  formal  dinner,  with  food  enough  to  victual  a  regi- 
ment. Manon  passed  the  contribution  purse  at 
church,  and  sometimes  even  went  to  a  dance.  But 
she  had  little  in  common  with  her  neighbors,  and  kept 
apart  as  much  as  she  could  from  the  "canaille  ca- 
ladoise,"  as  she  scornfully  termed  the  best  society  of 
Villefranche. 

Life  in  Lyons  was  gayer  and  free  from  petty  cares. 
There  for  two  months  every  year  she  enjoyed  leisure, 
and  even  a  little  luxury.  There  was  no  carping  mother- 
in-law  to  propitiate,  and  Manon  had  Roland  to  her- 
self. Her  position  was  an  assured  and  pleasant  one. 
She  had  a  cosey  apartment  on  the  quai,  overlooking  the 
river,  in  a  sunny,  cheerful  quarter,  with  a  guest-room 
for  Lanthenas  when  he  chose  to  occupy  it,  a  subscrip- 
tion to  the  theatre,  and  the  use  of  a  friend's  carriage 
for  visits  and  drives.     There  were  dinner-parties  fol- 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    263 

lowed  by  conversation  instead  of  cards,  more  time  for 
reading  than  at  Villefranche,  and  the  cultivation  of 
interesting  acquaintances.  A  letter  to  one  of  them,  a 
certain  Varenne  de  Fenille,  merits  citation.  This  brief 
for  the  study  of  English  letters  was  written  in  reply  to 
some  objections  made  to  Roland's  theory  that  English 
would  one  day  become  the  universal  language: 

"March  21,  1789,  Lyons.  .  .  .  You  ask  me  if  the 
EngHsh  language  is  harmonious,  and  you  insist  very 
adroitly  on  the  difficulty  for  foreigners  of  its  pronun- 
ciation as  a  kind  of  proof  of  the  negative.  To  answer 
that  question  I  wish  that  you  could  hear  an  educated 
Englishman  recite  the  fine  verses  of  his  great  national 
poets;  the  nobility  of  his  accents,  the  faciUty  of  his 
delivery,  the  justness  of  the  cadence,  or  the  measure 
of  the  rhythm,  the  full  tones  and  sonorous  termina- 
tions would  persuade  you  in  spite  of  yourself,  and  your 
conquered  ear  would  convey  to  your  mind  an  idea  of 
the  beauties  that  want  of  knowledge  had  not  per- 
mitted you  to  seize.  ...  I  will  add  that  if  there 
remains  still  something  to  say  for  the  intrinsic  diffi- 
culty of  English,  difficulty  that  a  little  habit  soon  sur- 
mounts, and  that  necessity  or  pleasure  never  considers, 
it  is  made  up  for  a  hundred  times  by  freedom  in  the 
use  of  elisions,  very  frequent  in  English,  an  amazing 
liberty  in  contracting  or  extending  words  in  a  way  that 
leaves  all  its  vivacity  to  the  imagination,  all  its  fire  to 
sentiment,  and  all  its  grandeur  to  genius,  which  ex- 
presses all  the  accents  of  emotion,  and  opens  to  the 
poet  as  to  the  orator  the  most  vast  career. 

"Our  relations  with  the  United  States,  the  advantage 
of  commerce  with  them,  etc.,  will  spread  the  necessity 


264  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

of  cultivating  their  language  through  all  parts  of  the 
world.  As  to  the  pleasure  of  cultivating  it — Ah ! 
Monsieur,  *if  the  works  of  pure  imagination  make 
more  proselytes  than  those  of  philosophy,  of  physical 
science,  or  of  lofty  morality,'  what  tongue  should  be 
cultivated  as  much  as  English,  which  unites  them  all  ? 

"They  are  the  people  of  Europe  who  possess  the 
strongest  and  tenderest  imagination,  the  most  varied 
and  interesting  novels,  and  if  not  the  most  chastened 
perhaps  the  most  pleasing  drama. 

"You  have  learned  Italian  for  Ariosto,  Tasso,  Metas- 
tasio,  Goldoni,  etc.  You  are  at  the  same  time  a  man 
of  learning  and  a  man  of  taste,  and  you  have  not 
learned  English  !  I  do  not  say  for  Locke,  Newton,  and 
so  many  others,  but  for  its  Milton,  sublime  in  his 
beauties,  astonishing  even  in  his  digressions,  fresh  and 
touching  as  Homer  in  his  details  and  descriptions;  a 
true  epic  poet,  with  whom  we  have  no  one  to  compare; 
less  fecund,  perhaps,  than  the  inexhaustible  Ariosto, 
less  formal  than  Tasso,  and  perhaps  as  great  as  both 
of  them. 

"You  have  not  learned  it  [English]  for  Thompson 
[sic],  the  amiable  singer  of  the  seasons,  rich  and  majes- 
tic as  the  nature  that  he  paints  like  a  master,  worthy 
to  sit  at  the  foot  of  his  creator's  throne,  whose  divine 
breath  seems  to  have  inspired  him.  Happy  husband- 
man !  You  who  tread  with  pleasure  the  fields  culti- 
vated by  your  care;  with  Virgil  in  your  hand  you 
apply  to  yourself  the  fortunatos  nimium,  and  you  have 
never  fixed  wet  eyes  on  the  verses  of  Thompson  [sic] ! 
And  Pope,  so  wise  and  so  brilliant,  has  not  brought  to 
your  spirit  with  the  sweetness  of  his  song  that  of  his 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    265 

philosophy,  also,  in  those  moments  when  the  most 
tranquil  soul  sighs  in  secret  over  the  trials  of  life. 
And  the  ingenious  Dryden,  the  witty  Congreve,  the 
voluptuous  Rochester,  have  they  never  called  a  smile 
to  your  lips  ?  But  how  have  you  never  sought  to 
know  Shakespeare,  about  whom  the  English  are  always 
enthusiastic,  in  spite  of  all  our  much-vaunted  perfec- 
tions ?  Why  have  you  not  been  curious  to  know  on 
what  was  founded  the  admiration,  the  enchantment, 
the  transports  of  an  enlightened  nation  for  an  author 
who  thinks  proper  to  neglect  the  three  unities,  to 
make  many  people  die  on  the  stage,  to  place  side  by 
side  pictures  of  common  life  and  the  most  lofty  deeds, 
precisely  as  they  are  in  nature,  and  to  have  had  no 
other  master,  no  other  law,  than  it  and  his  genius  ? 

"Look,  then,  I  beg  you,  in  Othello  for  that  which 
is  lacking  in  Orosmane,  which  makes  us  pass  with  far 
more  terror  through  all  the  stages  of  jealousy.  Com- 
pare, if  you  have  the  courage,  the  shade  of  Ninus  to 
that  of  Hamlet.  Find  by  examining  it  how  our  Ducis 
has  frozen  Lear,  by  arranging  it  in  the  French  fashion, 
and  correcting  it  according  to  the  rules  of  Aristotle, 
just  as  our  grandmothers  put  our  feet  on  little  boards 
between  strips  of  wood  to  make  us  turn  them  out,  or 
made  us  wear  iron  collars  to  oblige  us  to  hold  our- 
selves erect.  Consider  the  charming  characters  of 
women  so  delicately  drawn  by  Shakespeare's  brush, 
his  tender  Cordelia,  the  innocent  Desdemona,  the  un- 
fortunate Ophelia.  Conceive,  if  you  can,  how  the 
same  man  could  unite  so  much  grace  to  so  much 
strength;  how  he  has  made  us  pale  with  fright,  or 
thrill  in  response  to  the  sweetest  emotions,  carry  ten- 


266  MANON   PHLIPON  ROLAND 

derness  and  terror  to  their  height,  and  follow  or  pre- 
cede them  with  philosophy  or  gayety.  Call  his  writ- 
ings monstrous  if  you  will,  but  you  will  read  them  over 
twenty  times,  and  far  from  imputing  the  enjoyment  of 
his  works  as  a  crime  to  a  whole  nation,  you  will  share 
it  in  spite  of  all  that  our  Le  Bossus  can  say.  .  .  . 

"But  let  us  leave  the  follies  of  the  stage,  and  com- 
mune with  ourselves  in  novels,  sweet  fictions  that  feed 
tender  hearts:  world  of  illusions,  into  which  when 
unhappy  they  throw  themselves  to  find  other  noble 
hearts  to  cherish  and  to  pity.  O !  for  this.  Monsieur, 
you  will  have  to  leave  Italy,  for  I  do  not  imagine  that 
the  insipid  Chiari,  with  his  silly  adventures  and  still 
sillier  characters,  will  keep  you  there  two  minutes. 
Well,  then,  where  will  you  go  ?  Seek  for  adventures 
with  our  knights,  or  sail  the  Tendre  river  with  our 
Celadons,  for  I  can't  fancy  that  the  metaphysics  of 
our  modern  novelists  will  please  you  any  better  than 
the  bad  company  that  some  of  them  give  us.  You  will 
name  Julie  to  me,  and  I  reply  that  I  read  it  every  year, 
but  I  dare  to  say,  in  spite  of  all  my  respect  and  love 
for  that  writer  of  ours  to  whom  I  give  the  preference, 
it  is  not  as  a  novel  that  his  Julie  is  admirable.  This 
delightful  work  becomes  so  by  beauties  foreign,  so  to 
say,  to  its  nature,  and  only  their  intrinsic  excellence 
prevents  them  from  being  found  out  of  place.  Rous- 
seau, himself,  was  the  first  to  confess  that  Richardson 
was  his  master. 

"No  people  can  oJBFer  a  novel  capable  of  sustaining 
a  comparison  with  Clarissa;  it  is  the  masterpiece  of 
its  kind,  the  model  and  the  despair  of  all  imitators. 
Our  pygmies  with  their  compasses  will  discuss  its  pro- 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    267 

portions  and  blame  its  length,  but  they  themselves 
fall  on  their  knees  and  confess  that  they  know  of  noth- 
ing as  fine.  Meantime  the  mass  of  our  novels  is  in- 
finitely more  inferior  to  English  fiction  of  the  second 
order  than  Julie  differs  in  perfection  from  Clarissa. 
If  the  English  were  not  also  brave,  wise,  and  good 
politicians  and  profound  philosophers,  I  would  say 
that  they  are  the  novelists  of  Europe.  There  are 
many  of  them,  and  their  romances  bear  the  impress  of 
an  exquisite  sensibility,  of  great  knowledge  of  the 
human  heart,  and  of  a  touching  melancholy.  Field- 
ings  [sic]  and  several  others,  even  women,  have  entered 
this  career  with  honor  and  success.  However,  do  not 
imagine  that  a  tinge  of  consumption  makes  me  lean 
toward  the  English,  whom  our  gay  folks  reproach  for 
their  sombre  colors;  if  I  am  deliciously  touched,  I  am 
also  heartily  amused,  and  whoever  has  been  a  witness 
of  the  frank  merriment,  the  loud  laughs,  and  the  kind 
of  delirium  to  which  the  English  abandon  themselves 
in  their  theatres,  will  admit  that  the  same  amount  of 
feeling  renders  us  equally  susceptible  to  the  deepest 
passions  and  the  gentlest  affections,  the  most  spirited 
pictures  and  the  most  amiable  fancies. 

"Nevertheless,  I  can  only  guess  at  the  beauties  of 
the  English  tongue,  and  if  I  had  not  been  helped  by 
translations  I  could  not  speak  of  many  of  the  authors 
who  have  used  it.  I  learned  English  without  a  mas- 
ter; I  heard  it  spoken  in  London  only  a  month.  I 
read  English  prose,  now  I  must  study  its  poetry.  In 
spite  of  my  taste  for  languages,  my  passion  for  litera- 
ture, I  love  my  husband  better  than  all  of  them,  and 
as  he  is  bus}'^  with  [Industrial]  Arts  before  everything, 


268  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

it  is  now  several  years  since  I  have  known  or  seen  or 
understood  anything  but  [Industrial]  Arts.  It  is  only 
for  a  holiday,  and  always  together,  that  we  make  little 
excursions  into  the  noble  domain  of  literature,  to 
which,  forgetting  all  the  Arts  in  the  world,  I  hope  to 
return  some  day.  .  .  ." 

The  centres  of  intellectual  life  in  magnificent  Lyons, 
as  in  dull  Villefranche,  were  their  academies.  Roland 
was  a  member  of  them  both,  as  well  as  of  a  dozen 
others.  These  provincial  academies  were  seed-plots 
of  culture  in  eighteenth-century  France;  they  had  Httle 
in  common  with  the  puerile  literary  accademie  of  de- 
cadent Italy,  but  were  associations  for  the  study  of 
sciences,  letters,  and  the  industrial  arts.  They  oflFered 
prizes  for  the  best  essays  on  philosophy  and  morals,  on 
economics,  agriculture,  and  applied  science;  they  in- 
stituted courses  of  lectures,  and  in  many  instances 
opened  schools  of  superior  and  technical  studies  to 
supplement  the  deficiencies  of  the  obsolete  universi- 
ties. The  members  wrote  papers,  gave  public  lectures, 
and  receptions  to  any  wandering  lights  of  learning  that 
passed  through  the  town.  Roland  was  a  member  of 
fifteen  academies,  as  such  membership  was  a  dignified 
and  practical  method  of  extending  his  relations  with 
scientific  men.  The  academic  archives  of  Villefranche 
and  Lyons  bear  witness  to  his  activity.  He  wrote 
on  many  subjects,  ranging  from  a  Discours  sur  les 
femmes,  and  Abridged  Reflections  on  Chemical  Affini- 
ties and  on  Fermentation,  to  Causes  of  the  Decadence 
of  Commerce,  and  of  the  Population  of  Lyons,  be- 
sides papers  on  the  subjects  he  had  already  treated 
in  his  Dictionnaire — oils,  soaps,  dyeing,  leathers,  and 


JEAN  MARIF.  ROLAND  OK  I.A  PI.ATlf.Ri..  MINISTF.R  OF  THE  INTERIOR 
From  a  portrait  drawn  anJ  eni.'ra\<:J  by  Nicolas  Colbert 


LE  CLOS,  VILLEFRANCHE,  AND  LYONS    269 

skins.  As  Roland  was  an  enthusiastic  and  industri- 
ous member  of  both  the  academies,  Manon's  sphere 
of  activities  was  enlarged,  and  his  papers  were  re- 
modelled, polished,  and  copied  by  her.  Until  dif- 
ferences of  political  opinion  relaxed  or  broke  old 
bonds,  these  reunions  were  a  source  of  genuine  plea- 
sure to  both  husband  and  wife.  When  Roland  be- 
came minister  of  the  interior  in  1792,  his  letter  to  the 
Academy  of  Lyons  proves  that  in  despite  of  many 
political  feuds  between  them,  his  relations  with  the 
majority  of  the  members  were  cordial  and  friendly. 


CHAPTER    XIII 
RUMBLINGS    BEFORE    THE    STORM 

Thus  five  years  passed  in  a  quiet  round  of  humble 
duties  and  sober  pleasures.  There  were  some  vexa- 
tions; free-trading  Roland  naturally  sided  with  the 
manufacturer  against  the  merchant,  with  the  people  of 
Lyons  against  the  King's  officials  and  their  exactions. 
There  was  no  title  and  no  retiring  pension,  though 
Manon  did  not  despair  of  winning  them  some  day, 
and  tried  to  keep  her  name  green  in  the  "Bear's" 
memory  (September  i8,  1787). 

The  household  was  somewhat  cramped  for  money; 
Manon  would  have  enjoyed  passing  more  than  two 
months  a  year  in  expensive  Lyons,  and  a  compara- 
tively small  outlay  would  have  made  Le  Clos  the 
"bijou"  of  her  ambitions,  but  no  woman  was  ever 
more  indiJfFerent  to  externals,  no  one  ever  practised 
riches  of  spirit  (as  Manon's  dear  Saint  Francois  de 
Sales  called  it)  more  unconsciously;  the  opulence  of 
her  inner  life  overflowed  her  environment.  Her  illu- 
sions and  enthusiasms  still  remained  with  her.  Rous- 
seau was  her  mentor  always,  the  enchanter  "who  made 
her  forget  everything,  who  could  always  awaken  in  her 
feelings  that  rendered  her  happy  in  spite  of  fate"; 
with  him  she  sought  sanctuary  against  discouragement 
and  doubt.  And  Roland  was  still  paramount  in  her 
heart.     The  little  worries  of  her  complicated  house- 

270 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE   STORM     271 

hold  and  her  disappointment  in  Eudora  were  mere 
cloudlets  on  the  azure  of  her  happiness.  Her  letters 
were  those  of  a  lover,  with  a  lover's  anxieties  and 
impatience  in  the  absence  of  the  beloved,  and  though 
more  tranquil  are  as  affectionate  as  those  of  Mademoi- 
selle Phlipon.  During  this  stage  of  her  life  the  in- 
spector was  often  absent  on  his  official  duties,  and  her 
imagination  had  full  play.  She  idealized  him,  as  she 
had  Sophie,  as  she  had  La  Blancherie,  as  she  did  the 
household  tasks  of  Villefranche  and  the  drudgery  on 
the  Dictionnaire.  In  the  summer  of  1789  Roland  had 
a  long  and  dangerous  illness,  and  his  wife's  devotion 
not  only  saved  his  life,  which  was  despaired  of,  but  so 
sustained  her  that  though  she  passed  twelve  days  and 
nights  in  great  suspense,  without  undressing  and  al- 
most without  sleep,  and  then  spent  six  months  in  fol- 
lowing the  anxieties  and  alarms  of  a  tedious  convales- 
cence, her  health  was  unbroken  and  her  strength  was 
doubled.  Her  care  of  her  husband  and  his  increasing 
dependence  on  her  strengthened  the  bond  between 
them. 

A  short  trip  to  Switzerland  varied  the  gentle  monot- 
ony of  the  Rolands'  lives;  they  left  home  on  June  17, 
1787,  accompanied  by  Eudora  and  the  cure  of  Long- 
pont,  to  visit  Geneva,  Berne,  Lucerne,  Zurich,  SchafF- 
hausen.  Bale,  Strasburg,  and  Mulhouse,  returning  to 
Lyons  by  Besan^on  and  Chalons  in  July.  In  the 
course  of  their  rapid  journey  they  met  Lavater,  Albert 
Gosse,  Gessner,  Hofer,  and  other  Swiss  notabilities. 
Madame  Roland  wrote  an  account  of  her  travels  and 
a  portion  of  her  Voyage  en  Suisse  was  published 
anonymously  in  a  Lyons  magazine,  Le  Conservateur 


272  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

(vol.  II,  1788).  Later  Champagneux  included  the 
Voyage  in  his  edition  of  Madame  Roland's  works 
(1800,  vol.  III).  Manon  found  in  the  intellectual 
cultivation  and  simple  habits  of  the  Swiss  her  repub- 
lican ideal,  and  saw  on  every  hand  the  happy  influ- 
ences of  a  popular  government.  She  made  many 
friends,  and  a  souvenir  of  her  Swiss  tour  still  remains 
at  La  Rosiere:  Lavater's  silhouettes  of  the  Rolands. 

During  her  life  in  the  south  Manon's  interest  in  poli- 
tics was  almost  null.  She  yawned  over  the  newspapers 
(February  10,  1787)  and  was  interested  in  changes  in 
the  administration  only  so  far  as  they  affected  her 
husband's  situation.  With  a  fair  knowledge  of  the 
abuses  and  wrongs  of  the  government,  she  contented 
herself  with  pitying  its  victims,  notably  the  peasants, 
and  abstained  from  useless  criticisms.  She  accepted 
the  status  quo  with  more  resignation  than  did  Roland, 
and  sagely  strove  to  accommodate  herself  to  it.  No 
one  had  a  keener  sense  of  the  essential  injustice  of  the 
old  regime.  Few  women  knew  more  of  the  practical 
side  of  politics,  of  their  influence  on  national  prosperity. 
Her  work  on  the  Dictionnaire,  her  close  companionship 
with  Roland,  had  familiarized  her  to  an  unusual  degree 
with  industrial  and  economic  questions.  Her  experi- 
ence in  place-seeking  had  brought  her  close  to  the 
machinery  of  government.  She  had  no  illusions  and 
apparently  little  hope.  She  felt  the  unrest  and  dis- 
content that  were  in  the  air,  but  saw  no  remedy  for 
existing  ills,  and  doubtless  decided  that  it  was  easier 
to  bear  them  quietly  than  to  protest  uselessly.  Her 
own   part    in   her   country  was   so  infinitesimal  that 


MADAMi:  ROI.AXI) 
From  a  drawing  by  Daii!oux  in  the  National  Library  of  Paris  (Kaugcre  Legacy) 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE   STORM     273 

her  patriotism  was  latent,  unsuspected  by  herself.  Her 
experience  had  not  been  one  to  cherish  enthusiasm; 
government  by  grace  was  grim  of  aspect  seen  from 
below  the  terraces  of  Versailles,  where  the  arm  of  the 
law  was  extended  to  punish  far  more  often  than  to 
protect. 

As  a  child  Manon  had  lived  in  dread  proximity  to 
the  place  of  execution,  the  Greve.  Echoes  from  it 
reached  her  in  her  little  cabinet  among  her  books,  and 
were  prolonged  in  her  letters  to  Sophie.  It  is  curious 
to  note  these  heralds  of  the  great  changes  in  the  girls' 
correspondence;  Manon's  letters  were  generally  intro- 
spective, and  there  is  generally  little  space  in  them 
devoted  to  public  events.  She  was  too  busy  forging 
a  working  philosophy  of  life,  analyzing  her  own  thoughts 
and  sentiments,  and  exploring  new  continents  of  knowl- 
edge to  give  more  than  a  few  lines  to  the  news  of  the 
day.  The  first  national  event  that  Manon  mentioned 
in  her  letters  was  the  illness  of  the  King.  It  would 
seem  difficult  for  a  girl  of  high  ideals,  growing  up 
under  the  evil  rule  of  Louis  XV,  to  look  upon  his 
demise  as  anything  but  a  blessing  to  his  people,  yet 
Manon  wrote: 

"The  King  received  the  sacrament  on  Saturday 
morning;  to-day's  bulletin  gives  sad  thoughts.  The 
news  of  his  malady  has  affected  me.  .  .  .  Though  the 
obscurity  of  my  birth,  of  my  name,  and  my  position 
seems  to  absolve  me  from  interest  in  the  government, 
I  feel  in  spite  of  all  that  the  general  good  concerns  me. 
My  country  is  something  to  me,  my  attachment  to  it 
forms  a  sensitive  chord  in  my  heart." 

There  is  no  further  mention  of  the  final  stage  of  the 


274  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

long  dissolution  of  Louis  XV,  except  a  reference  to  the 
inoculation  of  the  princes.  A  few  months  later  Manon 
visited  Versailles,  where  the  spectacle  of  court  life  con- 
firmed her  republican  opinions.  But  she  soon  aban- 
doned her  detached  and  critical  attitude  and  responded 
to  the  enthusiasm  all  about  her.  She  shared  in  the  joy 
of  the  people  at  the  return  of  the  Parlement,  yet  she 
was  judicious  enough  to  realize  that  it  was  no  barrier 
against  the  royal  will,  "and  resembled  old  ruins  that 
are  reverenced  for  what  they  have  been,  though  it  is, 
of  course,  well  to  show  respect  for  the  laws  and  those 
who  administer  them."  Manon  ended  a  description  of 
the  fireworks  and  rejoicings  in  her  quarter  of  Paris 
(from  which  the  clergy  ostentatiously  abstained)  by  a 
eulogy  of  the  new  reign.  She  evidently  shared  the 
cheerful  anticipations  of  the  nation,  its  belief  in  the 
good-will  and  integrity  of  the  young  King,  in  his  de- 
sire to  right  the  misdeeds  of  his  predecessor.  His  pro- 
jected economies,  suppressions  of  sinecures,  and  re- 
forms in  the  administration  were  recognized  with  a  full 
measure  of  gratitude. 

"Here  we  have  enlightened  and  well-meaning  min- 
isters [Turgor,  Miromesnil,  Maurepas],  a  young  prince 
who  is  docile  to  their  advice,  and  who  is  full  of  good 
intentions,  an  amiable  and  beneficent  Queen,  a  polite, 
agreeable,  and  decent  court,  an  honored  legislative 
body,  a  charming  people  which  only  desires  to  be  able 
to  love  its  master,  and  a  kingdom  full  of  resources ! 
Ah,  how  happy  we  are  going  to  be!"   (November  i6, 

1 774-) 

"A  charming  people !"  wrote  Manon  in  a  warm  out- 
burst of  feeling.     Her  next  letter  but  one  presents  a 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE  STORM     275 

very  different  picture  of  this  same  people.  Two  crimi- 
nals had  been  condemned,  one  to  be  burned,  the  other 
to  be  broken  on  the  wheel,  and  the  sentence  was  exe- 
cuted, as  usual,  on  the  Place  de  Greve.  As  usual,  also, 
all  Paris  took  a  holiday  and  flocked  to  the  spectacle  as 
to  an  illumination  or  a  theatre.  From  her  windows  on 
the  Quai  de  I'Horloge  Manon  saw  with  horror  the 
dense  mass  of  people  blocking  the  streets  on  their  way 
to  the  Greve,  crowding  casements  and  balconies,  and 
even  swarming  on  the  roofs  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
execution.  For  twelve  hours  one  wretched  creature 
shrieked  and  writhed  on  the  wheel;  the  unwearied  spec- 
tators clapping  their  hands  and  shouting  with  joy. 
It  was  the  first  time  that  Manon  had  been  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  savage  in  man.  This  revelation 
of  popular  barbarity  affected  her  deeply.  She  strove 
to  find  reasons  for  it,  to  reconcile  it  with  her  philosophi- 
cal speculations  on  the  perfectibility  of  human  nature. 
With  the  taint  of  the  smoke  in  the  air  and  the  screams 
of  the  broken  wretch  (which  were  "heard  even  from 
mama's  bed,"  where  Manon  had  taken  refuge  from 
them  and  her  own  horrified  thoughts)  ringing  in  her 
ears,  she  tried  to  reconcile  this  ferocity  with  the  theory 
of  the  non-existence  of  evil.  "Are  there  then  atrocious 
beings  whose  existence  we  do  not  suspect.^"  (The 
Terror  answered  Manon's  question  years  too  late.) 
"No,  I  cannot  believe  that  man  is  born  so  wicked;  it 
is  his  passions,  either  uncontrolled  or  badly  directed, 
that  produce  these  effects.  ...  Is  there  a  certain 
ferocity,  a  real  taste  for  blood,  in  the  human  heart  ? 
But  no,  I  cannot  believe  it;  I  think  that  we  all  love 
strong  impressions,  because  they  give  us  lively  feelings; 


276  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

it  is  the  same  propensity  that  sends  people  of  delicate 
taste  to  the  theatre  and  the  populace  to  the  Greve." 

"Truly,  human  nature  is  not  worthy  of  respect 
when  one  considers  it  in  the  mass,"  wrote  Manon,  look- 
ing down  on  this  teeming  human  ant-hill.  Strangely 
enough,  Louis  Blanc  quotes  this  remark  to  prove 
Madame  Roland's  lack  of  love  for  the  people !  He 
should  have  continued  to  quote,  and  added  the  sentence 
she  wrote  next  day,  after  a  night  made  hideous  by  the 
sound  of  agonizing  cries  and  no  less  horrible  applause, 
*'I  confess  that  I  have  at  the  same  time  great  contempt 
and  great  love  for  men;  they  are  so  wicked  and  so  mad 
that  it  is  impossible  not  to  despise  them;  on  the  other 
hand,  they  are  so  unhappy  that  one  cannot  help  pity- 
ing and  loving  them"  (December  14,  1774). 

This  revelation  of  the  wild  beast  in  humanity  prob- 
ably prepared  Manon  for  the  outbreaks  of  violence 
that  followed  the  failure  of  hope  in  famishing  breasts, 
as  she  wrote  calmly  of  the  bread  riots  of  May,  1775, 
that  followed  the  joyous  anticipations  of  the  new 
reign.  For,  in  spite  of  a  well-meaning  king  and  an 
upright  and  resourceful  comptroller-general,  no  mira- 
cles were  forthcoming;  loaves  were  not  multiplied  nor 
cruses  filled,  neither  peace  nor  plenty  had  come  to  a 
starving  France.  One  lean  year  only  had  passed  since 
Louis  XVI's  accession,  when  a  hungry  mob  filled  the 
great  court  at  Versailles  and  clamored  for  bread.  A 
grim  reply  answered  its  petition  of  grievances:  a  gal- 
lows forty  feet  high  for  the  two  leaders. 

Next  day  the  disorder  reached  Paris;  Manon  wrote 
of  what  she  saw  of  it  at  the  end  of  a  letter  devoted  to 
a  discussion  of  the  philosophical  speculations  of  Leib- 


RUMBLINGS  BEFORE  THE  STORM     277 

nitz  and  Helvetius.  She  described  the  pillage  of  the 
markets,  the  merely  formal  resistance  of  the  soldiers, 
the  bakers  closing  the  shutters  of  their  shops  and 
throwing  the  loaves  from  the  windows,  the  grenadiers 
protecting  the  ovens  from  the  impatient  crowd  waiting 
to  carry  oflF  the  fresh  bread,  finally  the  establishment 
of  a  maximum  price,  and  the  queues  of  people  who 
stood  patiently  in  Hne  for  hours,  each  one  with  his 
eight  sols  in  his  hand.  The  prudent  Parisian  shop- 
keepers fastened  their  shutters  and  barred  their  doors. 
Nerves  were  at  such  stretch  that  while  Manon  was  at 
mass  some  children,  frightened  at  the  pillage  of  a 
baker's  shop,  ran  into  the  church  and  almost  caused 
a  panic. 

These  sights  "awoke  new  feelings  and  gave  rise  to 
a  thousand  reflections"  in  Manon;  she  remembered 
that  Sully  had  said  that  even  with  intelligence  and 
good-will  it  is  yet  very  difficult  to  do  good.  "I  be- 
lieve it,  I  excuse,  and  I  pity,"  she  added.  In  her  next 
letter  she  returned  to  the  subject;  she  has  only  praise 
for  the  young  King,  and  surprise  that  the  people  should 
revolt  against  the  dearth  that  was  borne  so  quietly 
under  his  predecessor.  (Many  surprises  of  this  kind 
awaited  Manon.)  She  added  some  reflections  that 
Madame  Roland  might  have  remembered  later  with 
profit:  ** Everything  is  interdependent  in  a  political 
system.  Much  reflection,  knowledge,  and  experiment 
are  necessary  to  change  a  single  wheel  the  movement 
of  which  may  aff'ect  the  whole  machine,  and  either  pre- 
serve or  destroy  it.  .  .  .  But  the  people  do  not  un- 
derstand that;  they  do  not  see  that  the  sovereign 
obliged  to  respect  property  has  many  precautions  to 


278  MANON   PHLIPON  ROLAND 

take  in  all  that  concerns  it  even  indirectly.  The  peo- 
ple feels  that  it  is  hungry,  and  knows  that  it  has  not 
the  money  to  satisfy  its  hunger.  It  speaks  only  of 
bread;  it  was  the  only  thing  that  interested  it;  it  was 
always  thus  in  all  times  and  all  places.  The  Jews 
wished  to  make  Jesus  Christ  their  king  only  after  he 
had  fed  them  miraculously."  As  for  the  disturbances 
in  the  provinces,  they  had  been  grossly  exaggerated, 
and  were  due,  every  one  said,  to  agitation  rather  than 
actual  scarcity.  Here  Manon  passed  into  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  pretty  custom  of  crowning  a  rosiere  at 
Salencey,  and  dropped  into  poetry  to  console  Sophie 
for  her  spoiled  garden,  ravaged  by  a  hail-storm. 

The  same  cool  reasonableness  characterized  her 
views  of  the  American  war.  Her  republican  sympa- 
thies were,  of  course,  with  the  insurgents,  but  they 
were  expressed  moderately,  and  without  the  warmth 
which  she  showed  often  in  the  discussion  of  abstract 
questions.  To  Voltaire's  triumph  in  Paris  she  gave  a 
few  rather  depreciatory  lines  in  her  letters;  evidently 
he  stood  for  little  to  the  devotee  of  Rousseau.  She 
admired  Voltaire's  poetry,  his  wit,  and  his  taste,  but 
she  had  a  small  opinion  of  his  political  views  and  his 
philosophy.  She  thought  "he  would  have  done  bet- 
ter peacefully  to  enjoy  his  renown  in  his  chateau  of 
Ferney,  surrounded  by  his  adoring  subjects,  than  to 
come  to  Paris  to  exhibit  the  absurdities  of  an  old  man 
greedy  for  incense."  This  is  all  that  our  young  philos- 
opher had  to  say  of  the  sage  "who  had  broken  the 
fetters  of  reason  and  avenged  the  cause  of  humanity" 
(Condorcet),  or  of  the  honors  that  a  grateful  country 
laid  at  his  feet,  such  honors  as  never  before  had  poet 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE  STORM     279 

received,  even  when  Petrarch  was  crowned  at  the 
Capitol. 

The  admiration  that  Manon  could  not  feel  for  Vol- 
taire she  bestowed  freely  on  the  somewhat  theatrical 
simplicity  of  Joseph  II,  who  visited  Paris  incognito 
as  the  Count  of  Falkenstein.  Her  sketch  of  him, 
blond,  handsome,  "very  hke  the  Queen,"  in  his  round 
wig  and  puce-colored  coat,  with  austere  steel  buttons, 
running  about  Paris  alone,  on  foot  or  in  a  hackney- 
coach,  visiting  the  sights  like  any  traveller,  is  very 
engaging. 

Turgot's  dismissal  and  the  royal  abandonment  of 
reforms  and  economies  that  it  implied  stunned  her,  as 
it  did  thinking  France  (May  12,  1776).  "This  Sunday 
is  a  day  of  revolution,"  the  girl  wrote  Sophie,  not 
knowing  how  truly,  for  with  the  fall  of  Turgor  perished 
the  hope  of  a  peaceful  and  equable  adjustment  of  the 
burdens  of  the  people.  On  the  whole,  Manon's  inter- 
est in  national  affairs  was  feeble  compared  to  her 
ardor  for  study  and  acquisition.  Her  self-absorption 
accounted  for  something  of  this  indifference  and  the 
narrow  interests  of  her  relations  for  more.  Her  culti- 
vated friends  were  conservative  and  disillusioned  men 
of  the  world,  with  small  faith  in  Utopias.  The  girl 
probably  considered  that  she  possessed  no  store  of 
data  from  which  to  form  sound  political  opinions, 
hence  suspension  of  judgment  became  an  intellectual 
duty. 

Later  collaboration  with  Roland,  by  acquainting 
her  with  the  economic  situation  of  France,  aroused 
Manon's  interest  in  politics.  If  she  loyally  adopted 
her  husband's  point  of  view,  it  was  because  its  sound- 


28o  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

ness  appealed  to  her  reason,  and  she  tried  to  hold  the 
balance  in  which  opinions  are  weighed  with  a  steady 
hand.  Her  experience  in  place-seeking  left  her  with 
little  faith  in  any  real  amelioration  under  existing  con- 
ditions, and  a  disbelief  in,  even  a  fear  of,  sudden 
changes,  lest  they  lead  to  new  and  worse  abuses.  She 
was  uninterested  in  what  she  rather  contemptuously 
termed  "/(2  politique  gazettiere."  She  had  seen  the 
failure  of  so  many  hopes,  the  breaking  of  so  many 
promises.  What  did  it  matter  a  quelle  sauce  on  serait 
mangey  since  the  people  were  always  devoured  ?  Min- 
isters changed,  but  taxes  and  imposts,  gabelle,  corvee, 
and  dixieme  changed  not. 

The  evils  of  the  administration  were  sadly  familiar 
to  the  inspector  and  his  coworker,  who  (to  mention 
one  of  many  instances)  drew  up  the  report  on  the 
ruin  of  Lyons  in  1791,  tracing  the  decay  of  her  former 
prosperity  to  the  crushing  exactions  and  forced  loans 
that  had  filled  her  once  busy  streets  with  beggared 
operatives,  and  practically  reduced  this  formerly 
flourishing  town  to  bankruptcy.  Small  wonder  that, 
with  such  examples  before  her,  Manon  was  sceptical 
of  "the  good  that  is  always  going  to  be  done." 

Daily  contact  with  the  peasants  of  the  Lyonnais 
added  to  Manon's  knowledge  of,  and  dissatisfaction 
with,  the  government.  She  pitied,  she  could  not 
hope.  She  had  sighed  over  the  wretchedness  of  the 
artisans,  she  wept  over  the  misery  of  the  country  folk. 
She  did  what  she  could  to  alleviate  them,  and  then 
tried  to  banish  from  her  mind  the  woes  she  could  not 
relieve.  Are  we  not  even  now  turning  away  our  eyes 
and  thoughts  from  wrongs  that  we  are  impotent  to 


MiNiSTREDE   ['.  INTERIE  Uft    £N    hC)i 
■CP'JTE    OL   LA     SOMME   A  LA  COMVENTiON 
nH.'VILl-fc    FkANCHE    (RHONE)    EN    {^6^ 

I         NNA   LA  MOftT  l£  15  N0V£M-'!1  gi 


I-ORIRAI  I    OF  ROI.AXO 
Drawn  by  Gabriel  in  1792 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE  STORM     281 

redress,  helplessly  stopping  our  ears  against  the  plaint 
of  obscure  sufferers  ? 

That  the  failure  of  her  own  efforts  to  obtain  ade- 
quate reward  and  recognition  of  Roland's  services 
counted  for  something  in  her  indifference  and  hopeless- 
ness is  indubitable;  that  it  counted  for  much  no  one 
who  is  familiar  with  Manon's  correspondence  can  be- 
Heve.  Her  own  grievance  was  so  insignificant  that  it 
was  forgotten  in  her  complaints  of  the  cruelties  and 
blunders  of  the  industrial  regime  and  the  barbarities 
of  the  feudal  system.  The  Rolands'  exasperation  was 
too  justly  founded  on  a  basis  of  wide  knowledge  to  be 
ascribed  to  mere  personal  dissatisfaction.  The  indi- 
vidual injustice  was  minimized  by  acquaintance  with 
the  larger  wrong.  From  this  state  of  half-bitter,  half- 
sorrowful  resignation  she  was  suddenly  aroused.  She 
herself  told  of  her  awakening  in  one  forceful  line:  ^' La 
Revolution  vint  et  nous  enfiamma.*' 

During  the  peaceful  years  that  Manon  had  been 
gathering  the  fruits  of  her  little  farm  Calonne  had 
brought  France  to  the  verge  of  bankruptcy.  His  origi- 
nal method  of  dealing  with  his  own  financial  difficul- 
ties— "To  be  or  to  become  rich,  it  is  only  necessary  to 
appear  so" — he  had  applied  to  those  of  the  state,  with 
the  result  that  in  1787  the  deficit  had  grown  to  a  hun- 
dred and  forty  millions  of  livres.  No  longer  able  to 
hide  the  emptiness  of  the  Treasury,  or  to  impose  more 
forced  loans  on  a  sceptical  public,  he  audaciously  ad- 
vocated the  measure  that  had  caused  the  dismissal  of 
his  predecessors.  This  was  a  subvention  territoriale^ 
which  placed  all  the  property  in  France  on  equal 
terms  under  the  tax-gatherer. 


282  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

Beaumarchais  had  called  Calonne  a  dancer.  He 
had,  indeed,  danced  lightly  to  the  verge  of  disaster, 
and  on  the  brink  had  saved  himself  by  an  astounding 
pirouette.  It  was  the  monarchy  only  that  went  down 
into  the  gulf. 

"But  what  you  are  giving  me  is  Necker's;  this  is 
pure  Neckerism,"  protested  Louis  XVI,  when  Calonne 
submitted  his  plans  for  taxation.  "Sire,"  returned  the 
nimble  minister,  "in  the  present  condition  of  things 
we  can  offer  you  nothing  better."  Calonne,  not  satis- 
fied with  appropriating  Necker's  policy,  dared  to 
ascribe  to  him  the  deficit  caused  by  his  own  extrava- 
gance. Fearing  that  the  Parlement  would  oppose  not 
only  the  new  land-tax  but  the  other  innovations  in 
the  Necker-Calonne  programme,  the  comptroller  pro- 
posed to  the  King  that  an  assembly  of  Notables  should 
be  convoked.  An  assembly  of  Notables  !  The  novelty, 
like  most  novelties,  was  an  antiquity  revived;  it  had 
been  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  years  since  the  last 
one  had  met  (1614),  and  the  renewal  of  an  old  institu- 
tion lent  an  air  of  authority  to  the  new  measure.  To 
this  assembly  the  King  himself  would  communicate  his 
plan  "for  the  relief  of  his  people,  the  settlement  of  the 
finances,  and  the  reformation  of  several  abuses." 

The  court  of  Versailles,  and  especially  the  Queen's 
court  of  Trianon,  received  this  news  with  unconcealed 
alarm.  Since  the  last  forced  loan  the  former  profuse 
golden  shower  had  become  a  mere  dribble,  and  the 
favorites  were  languishing.  Dire  rumors  of  pensions 
reduced  and  projected  economies  were  then  only  the 
forerunners  of  the  real  calamity,  a  universal  land-tax. 
Even  the  fact  that  the  Notables  would  all  be  nobles, 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE  STORM     283 

presided  over  by  princes  of  the  blood,  was  not  wholly 
reassuring.  To  the  older  and  wiser  courtiers  this  in- 
stitution of  a  new  assembl}^  was  clear  proof  of  the 
decHne  of  the  royal  authority.  "The  King  has  just 
sent  in  his  resignation,"  said  the  Vicomte  de  Segur 
when  the  news  reached  him.  But  the  Paris  wits  who 
had  little  faith  in  the  reform  of  abuses  conducted  by 
those  who  lived  by  them,  expressed  their  scepticism  in 
the  following  announcement:  "Notice  is  hereby  given 
that  the  Comptroller-General  has  formed  a  new  Com- 
pany of  Actors,  whose  first  performance  will  take  place 
before  the  court  on  Monday,  the  29th  inst  [of  Janu- 
ary]. The  principal  piece  will  be  Les  Fausses  Con- 
fidences; to  be  followed  by  Le  Consentiment  Force; 
after  which  an  allegorical  ballet-pantomime,  composed 
by  M.  de  Calonne,  entitled  Le  Tonneau  des  Da- 
naides,  will  be  given." 

The  well-named  Comedie  des  Notables  ended  (May 
25,  1787)  with  a  refusal  to  pass  the  territorial  sub- 
sidy, the  nobles  very  naturally  declining  to  aban- 
don not  only  their  right  to  be  exempted  from  taxation 
but  their  right  to  tax  others.  The  comed}^  proved  a 
tragedy  for  Calonne,  who  was  obliged  to  confess  to 
the  annual  revenue  deficit  of  one  hundred  and  forty 
millions.  He  had  accused  Necker  of  cooking  accounts 
in  his  report  and  of  leaving  the  Treasury  empty. 
Necker  was  justified,  Calonne  harshly  dismissed,  and 
exiled  to  Lorraine. 

Calonne's  successor  (May  i,  1787),  Lomenie  de 
Brienne,  the  Queen's  man,  was  forced  by  the  increasing 
deficit  to  propose  not  only  a  land-tax  but  a  stamp-tax 
as  well,  to  be  levied  from  all  classes.     But  this  measure 


284  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

could  not  be  passed  without  the  sanction  of  the  Parle- 
ment  of  Paris,  which  refused  to  register  the  edicts,  and 
continued  to  refuse  in  face  of  the  King's  displeasure. 
It  remained  contumacious  in  spite  of  royal  commands 
(August  6,  1787),  of  exile  from  Paris  to  Troyes,  and 
the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  its  leaders  (May  6, 
1788),  earning  great  popularity  as  defender  of  the 
people's  rights.  The  Parlement  of  Paris  was  backed 
by  the  magistracy  of  France,  "become  liberal  from 
interest  and  rendered  generous  by  oppression"  (Mi- 
gnet). 

Meanwhile,  what  was  to  be  done  to  fill  the  royal 
coffers  ?  Thrifty  Lomenie,  hard  pushed,  had  proposed 
economies,  especially  in  the  Queen's  household,  far 
more  costly  than  that  of  the  King.  Amid  angry 
squawks  and  plaintive  bleatings  the  expenses  of  the 
court  of  Trianon  were  slightly  reduced,  with  the  result 
of  turning  the  Queen's  spoiled  pets  into  a  snarling  pack 
of  enemies.  The  gulf  of  deficit  still  yawned  and  cur- 
rent expenses  had  to  be  met.  To  fill  his  empty  trea- 
sury Archbishop  Lomenie,  after  a  vain  appeal  to  the 
clergy  to  remit  its  privilege,  robbed  the  tills  of  the 
hospitals,  and  laid  violent  hands  on  the  fund  for 
the  starving  peasants.  The  chasm  still  gaped,  and 
Lomenie  was  no  Curtius  Necker  to  close  it  by  casting 
in  himself  and  his  millions.  Money  must  be  raised, 
but  how  ?  Only  the  States-General,  an  assembly  rep- 
resenting the  whole  nation,  could  legally  pass  fiscal 
edicts,  the  Parlement  of  Paris  affirmed,  and  the  pro- 
vincial parlements  confirmed  its  decision.  The  issue 
soon  became  national. 

The  Queen,  snubbed  and  scolded  by  her  Polignacs 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE  STORM     285 

and  Besenvals,  turned  to  her  sporting  brother-in-law 
Artois  and  his  reckless  military  coterie.  In  Marie 
Antoinette  and  the  prince  Lomenie  found  two  sym- 
pathetic collaborators  in  his  scheme  for  at  once  starving 
out  the  recalcitrant  Parlement  and  annulling  its  author- 
ity. The  establishment  of  minor  law-courts  {haillia- 
ges)  to  try  the  less  important  cases  at  smaller  cost 
would  reduce  the  revenues  of  the  Parlement,  and  the 
formation  of  a  Plenary  Court,  composed  of  twenty-one 
nobles  to  register  Lomenie's  decrees,  would  abrogate 
its  authority.  This  Cour  Pleniere  was  admirably  cal- 
culated to  destroy  what  remained  of  the  prestige  of 
the  monarchy.  Chosen  largely  from  the  valetry  of 
Versailles,  who  were  all  to  be  appointed  for  life,  it 
was  uniquely  designed  as  a  tool,  one  might  say 
a  burglar's  tool,  for  forcing  the  strong  boxes  of  the 
King's  subjects.  This  purpose  was  expressed  in  a 
proclamation  worthy  of  its  sagacious  authors  i^'le  con- 
seil  des  fousy'  as  Michelet  called  them).  Nothing 
affords  plainer  proof  of  the  gulf  between  enlightened 
France  and  benighted  Versailles  than  this  mare's  nest 
of  a  scheme  worthy  of  a  decadent  Byzantine  court. 
The  details  of  this  childish  plan  for  raising  money  and 
at  the  same  time  staving  off  the  redoubtable  States 
General  were  to  be  arranged  in  secret,  so  that  the 
illegal  fiscal  edicts  might  be  passed  instantly  by  a 
coup  de  main,  taking  the  hostile  public  and  the  rebel- 
lious Parlement  by  surprise. 

But,  as  usual,  domestic  treason  quashed  the  palace 
plot.  From  a  window  in  the  attics  of  Versailles,  where 
the  printers,  closely  watched,  were  setting  up  the 
summons  to  the  Cour  Pleniere,  a  clay  ball  was  tossed 


286  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

containing  a  printed  proof.  No  bursting  shell  was 
ever  so  far-reaching  in  its  fatal  effect  as  the  breaking 
of  this  missile.  The  news  of  the  conspiracy  spread 
from  an  outraged  capital  to  an  indignant  country. 
Not  an  edict  could  be  registered.  The  Grands  Bail- 
liages  sat  at  receipt  of  custom  in  empty  court-rooms. 
Local  riots  and  the  organized  opposition  of  Dauphine 
and  Brittany  warned  the  King  that  the  rusty  thunder- 
bolt of  Louis  XIV  was  dangerous  only  to  the  hand 
that  launched  it. 

The  Cour  Pleniere  met  once  only  under  protest  and 
then  dissolved,  a  pitiful  '' heroi-tragi-comedie,  jouee  le 
14  Juillet  1788  par  une  societe  d' amateurs  dans  un 
Chateau  aux  environs  de  Versailles.'' 

Naturally,  after  this  flat  failure  Lomenie's  succeeding 
loan  remained  unfilled,  and  the  tax  of  the  second  twen- 
tieth which  Parlement  had  registered  unlevied.  "  Lenders 
are  afraid  of  ruin,  tax-gatherers  of  hanging,"  wailed 
Weber.  What  resource  remained  for  poverty-stricken 
royalty  ?  States  General  only,  Lomenie  assured  the 
King,  and  finally,  on  August  8,  1788,  the  National 
States  General  were  formally  summoned  for  the  fol- 
lowing Ma}^,  1789,  and  "thinkers"  were  invited  to 
propose  a  plan  of  procedure  for  their  deliberations. 
Absolutism  had  lost  its  first  battle.  Even  the  Queen, 
prejudiced  and  limited  as  she  was,  still  confused  with 
the  failure  of  her  little  harem  plot,  felt  defeat  in  the 
air.  Instinct  warned  this  daughter  of  emperors  that 
absolute  monarchy  was  becoming  constitutional  mon- 
archy. "The  King  grants  States  General.  It  is  the 
first  drum-beat  of  ill  omen  for  France,"  she  murmured 
to  Madame  Campan,  growing  prophetic  over  her  coffee. 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE  STORM     287 

"Thinkers"  having  failed  to  provide  a  satisfactory 
order  of  proceedings,  a  second  Assembly  of  Notables 
was  convened  (November  6,  1788)  to  settle  two  mo- 
mentous questions:  Shall  the  Third  Estate  have  a 
double  representation  in  the  States  General,  six  hun- 
dred representatives,  as  many  as  the  nobility  and 
clergy  united  ?  Shall  the  members  of  the  States 
General  vote  individually  or  by  class  ?  Together  or 
separately  ?  The  Notables  (they  were  Calonne's  origi- 
nal Notables,  and  all  belonged  to  the  privileged  orders) 
opposed  the  double  representation,  and  dodged  the 
issue  by  count  of  heads. 

After  a  month  of  backing  and  filling,  nothing  had 
been  decided.  PubHc  indignation  finding  voice  in 
pamphlets  and  caricatures,  addresses  and  ballads, 
finally  reached  the  King's  ears,  drowning  the  hammer- 
ing and  pounding  in  his  forge,  and  Louis  XVI  advo- 
cated the  double  representation  by  the  advice  of  Necker, 
who  had  been  recalled  in  August  after  the  fall  of 
Lomenie.  Two  grim  advocates,  hunger  and  death, 
pleaded  more  insistently  for  the  people.  To  those 
who  living  on  boiled  grass  and  roots  ''asked  for  bread, 
Louis  gave  the  Double  Representation"  (Michelet). 
Voting  by  head  or  class,  and  all  minor  matters  re- 
mained undecided — not  for  lack  of  discussion,  how- 
ever. "All  men's  minds  are  in  a  ferment.  Nothing 
is  talked  of  but  a  constitution;  the  women  especially 
are  joining  in  the  hubbub,  and  you  know,  as  well  as 
I,  what  influence  they  have  in  this  country.  It  is  a 
mania;  everybody  is  an  administrator,  and  can  talk 
only  of  progress.  The  lackeys  in  the  anterooms  are 
busy  reading  the   pamphlets   that   come   out   ten   or 


288  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

twelve  a  day,  and  I  don't  know  how  the  printing-presses 
can  do  the  work,"  wrote  Count  Fersen,  the  Queen's 
knight. 

Finally,  by  royal  edict,  on  January  24,  1789,  the 
States  General  became  an  assured  fact;  the  election 
of  the  national  representatives  and  the  preparation  of 
the  famous  cahiers  began.  The  cahiers  de  plaintes  et 
doleances  were  memorials  of  complaints  and  grievances 
in  which  the  whole  people  of  France  stated  their 
wrongs,  their  sufferings,  and  their  wishes,  the  reforms 
they  desired  and  the  compromises  they  were  willing 
to  accept.  These  documents  have  been  made  the  sub- 
ject of  recent  and  exhaustive  investigation,  and  their 
value  to  the  historian  of  economics  can  hardly  be  over- 
estimated. De  Tocqueville  called  them  the  last  will 
and  testament  of  the  old  regime.  They  are  certainly 
its  foremost  accuser.  Is  their  stern  arraignment  just .? 
Are  they  really  the  work  of  the  people,  or  of  politicians 
interested  in  exaggerating  abuses  and  in  presenting  a 
strong  case  against  the  government  ?  The  vexed  ques- 
tion of  their  authorship  may  now  be  considered  defi- 
nitely settled,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  most  of  the 
rural  parish  cahiers  were  written  by  the  peasants 
themselves.  "At  the  sight  of  their  naive  inaccuracies, 
their  clumsiness,  and  their  picturesque  spelling,  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  believe  that  they  are  not,  for  the 
most  part,  the  real  work  of  popular  assemblies,"  says 
M.  Boissonade,  one  of  the  editors  of  the  cahiers,  and 
two  other  authorities.  Messieurs  Bridre}^  and  Poree, 
share  his  conviction.  The  cahiers  certainly  are  much 
alike,  but  they  express  the  desires  of  the  people,  and 
"the  same  abuses,  the  same  evils,  necessarily  provoked 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE   STORM     289 

the  same  complaints."  The  magistrates,  parish  priests, 
and  lawyers,  who  were  sometimes  the  secretaries  and 
amanuenses  of  unlettered  folk,  did  Httle  but  "trans- 
cribe with  more  or  less  elegance,  but  certainly  always 
with  fidelity,  the  feelings  and  the  wishes  of  the  people." 
In  these  memorials  the  voice  of  the  peasant,  mute 
through  so  many  centuries  of  wrong,  was  heard  at  last. 
What  Roland  was  to  do  later  in  person  for  Lyons,  cureSy 
local  lawyers,  and  the  "intellectuals,"  as  M.  Onou  calls 
them,  were  doing  for  laborers  and  rustics.  So  much 
for  the  authorship  of  the  cahiers. 

How  reliable  are  they  in  matters  of  fact  ?  The  pre- 
vailing opinion  in  France  to-day  is  that  of  the  editors 
of  the  cahiers  (who  naturally  are  more  familiar  with 
the  text  than  any  of  those  who  have  previously  written 
on  the  subject),  viz.:  that  the  parish  cahiers  are  gen- 
erally trustworthy.  Their  veracity  is  tested  by  com- 
parison with  statements  drawn  from  the  municipal 
registers  and  data  from  other  uncontested  sources. 
Their  cities  to  authenticity  and  veracity  justified  b}'" 
investigation  and  comparison  with  contemporary  doc- 
uments, they  furnish  the  substance  for  a  new  view  of 
history,  a  new  knowledge  of  the  common  people,  and 
a  new  instrument  for  calculating  the  effect  of  economic 
conditions  on  the  thoughts  and  acts  of  men. 

Dull  rumblings  and  slight  shocks  from  this  upheaval 
had,  of  course,  reached  the  Rolands.  They  had  per- 
sonal, direct  news,  also,  for  Bosc  and  Lanthenas  were 
ardent  supporters  of  the  projected  reforms,  and  the 
Rolands'  Protestant  friends  were  won  at  once.  No 
one  had  better  cause  to  disHke  and  distrust  the  old 
regime  than  Roland  and  his  wife,  but  for  some  time 


290  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

Manon  remained  strangely  lukewarm.  M.  Perroud  be- 
lieves that  she  was  convinced  that  the  old  order  would 
endure  in  spite  of  the  revolt  against  it,  and  strove  to 
accommodate  herself  to  it.  Roland,  though  at  times 
he  hoped  for  some  return  to  the  policy  of  Turgot  and 
Trudaine,  believed  that  officials,  not  methods,  would 
be  changed.  For  a  short  time  Madame  Roland  felt 
something  of  her  old  enthusiasm  for  the  Parlement 
during  its  resistance  to  the  King  and  its  demand  for 
the  States  General.  (Letters  of  May  19  and  22,  1788.) 
In  June  she  wrote  Bosc:  "They  say  that  the  answer  of 
Necker  [to  Calonne]  is  all  ready,  but  to  publish  it  he 
must  leave  the  kingdom.  What  do  your  friends  say 
of  him  ^  .  .  .  All  the  little  courts  [the  bailiwicks  in- 
stituted by  Brienne]  are  satisfied  with  the  revolution. 
It  is  only  we  plebeians  who  find  their  hands  in  our 
pockets  before  any  one  can  say  *  Beware ! '  who  are  not 
pleased  with  the  news  of  the  registration  [of  Lomenie's 
edicts],  and  of  a  Plenary  Court  sold  to  the  King.  Then 
the  authority  of  the  lesser  courts  seems  to  us  too  great. 
In  little  places  where  gossip  and  personal  feeling  have 
so  much  influence  the  fortune  of  private  individuals  is 
placed  at  the  discretion  of  judges  who  are  easily  de- 
ceived. Let  us  wait  and  see,  let  us  bless  America,  and 
weep  on  the  banks  of  the  rivers  of  Babylon." 

Necker's  return  to  power  (August  25,  1788)  gave 
Madame  Roland  some  anxiety.  She  had  always  dis- 
trusted him,  and  feared  his  ill  will  for  Roland  if  the 
latter's  fearless  "Notes"  should  come  to  Necker's 
knowledge. 

Her  belief,  like  that  of  the  general  public,  in  the 
liberalism  of  the  Parlement  was  shaken  by  its  demand 


RUMBLINGS  BEFORE  THE  STORM     291 

that  the  Orders  in  the  States  General  should  vote 
separatel}^  She  wrote  Bosc  on  October  8  from  the 
Clos:  "You  tell  us  nothing  more,  my  dear,  and  yet  the 
Parlement  is  re-established,  and  is  acting  in  a  sur- 
prising manner.  Must  the  friends  of  order  and  lib- 
erty who  desired  its  re-establishment  be  obliged  to 
regret  it?  What  has  been  the  effect  of  its  opinion  at 
the  capital  ?  We  are,  then,  only  to  know  whether  we 
shall  vegetate  sadly  under  the  rod  of  a  single  despot, 
or  groan  under  the  iron  yoke  of  several  tyrants.  The 
alternative  is  terrible,  and  leaves  us  no  choice;  it  is 
impossible  to  make  one  between  two  evils.  If  the 
degradation  of  the  nation  is  less  universal  under  an 
aristocracy  than  under  the  despotism  of  an  absolute 
monarch,  the  condition  of  the  people  is  sometimes 
more  wretched,  and  it  would  be  with  us,  where  the 
privileged  classes  are  everything,  and  the  largest  class 
is  almost  a  zero." 

In  the  midst  of  rather  melancholy  references  to  her 
own  country  Madame  Roland's  fancy  again  and  again 
gladly  turned  to  America,  the  asylum  of  liberty,  the 
incontrovertible  proof  of  the  practical  beneficence  of 
republican  institutions.  The  Arcadian  life  of  the 
farmers  of  Rhode  Island  and  the  settlers  of  Pennsyl- 
vania had  been  winningly  pictured  by  the  Frenchmen 
who  had  tasted  its  noble  hospitality.  Courtiers,  sol- 
diers, writers,  farmers,  philosophers,  theorists,  every 
manner  of  man  from  Lauzun  to  Brissot,  joined  in  a 
hymn  of  praise  to  America,  to  its  bounteous  soil,  its 
large  opportunity,  its  free  natural  life,  as  unfettered  by 
petty  social  restrictions  as  by  caste  prejudices  or  crip- 
pling laws. 


292  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

Saint  John  de  Crevecoeur,  whose  Lettres  d'un  culti- 
vateur  amerlcain  appealed  poignantly  to  the  harassed 
French  landowner,  had  found  an  unspoiled  Eden  in 
the  forests  and  fields  of  these  new  Hesperides.  To  the 
French  idealists  there  was  but  one  shadow,  slavery, 
across  this  sunny  paradise,  and  a  Society  for  the  En- 
franchisement of  the  Negroes  was  promptly  founded  by 
Brissot,  the  future  Girondin,  on  his  return  to  France. 

Lanthenas,  the  man  of  many  projects,  was  urging  his 
friends  to  realize  their  dream  of  liberty  in  America 
with  him,  in  those  agitated  months  that  preceded  the 
meeting  of  the  States  General.  Madame  Roland's 
references  to  the  Promised  Land  glide  in  between  her 
requests  for  political  news  and  for  technical  advice 
about  her  cabbages  and  turnips  and  their  insect  ene- 
mies. And  the  genial  plenty  of  America  seemed  doubly 
alluring  by  contrast  with  the  dearth  of  the  lean  year 
1788,  when  long  drought  and  devastating  hailstones 
had  bHghted  the  harvests.  Discontent  was  exacer- 
bated by  the  scarcity  of  food.  In  the  provinces  nobles 
and  plebeians  were  discussing  the  double  representa- 
tion at  the  sword's  point.  There  was  civil  war  in  the 
north,  revolt  in  the  south.  While  the  enlightened  por- 
tion of  the  Third  Estate  showed  moderation  as  well  as 
tenacity  in  defense  of  its  promised  rights,  the  mass  of 
the  people  whose  ignorance  separated  it  from  the  mid- 
dle class  already  had  begun  to  express  its  beliefs  in 
acts  of  violence.  In  Paris,  only  a  few  days  before  the 
opening  of  the  States  General  (April,  1789),  Sieur 
Revillon's  paper  factory  was  sacked  and  burned  by 
rioters.  The  sieur  was  accused  of  "aristocracy,"  and 
of  having  said  that  a  workman  could  live  on  fifteen 


RUMBLINGS   BEFORE  THE   STORM     293 

sous  a  day.  The  Gardes  Franfalses  and  the  Suisses 
arrived  too  late  to  save  the  factory,  but  in  dispersing 
the  pillagers  many  were  wounded  and  killed.  This 
was  an  ominous  prelude  to  the  States  General,  for  the 
authorities  had  proved  weak  and  undecided,  the  people 
violent  and  unreasonable. 

Nor  was  the  foreign  policy  of  the  government  strong 
or  wise.  By  hesitation  and  compromise  the  prestige 
won  by  the  American  victories  had  been  lost.  France 
had  stood  aloof  from  her  ally,  Turkey,  had  let  Russia 
take  the  Crimea,  and  her  mediation  had  been  refused 
by  the  Empress.  Holland  had  been  deserted,  also, 
where  the  States  had  counted  on  the  protection  of 
France,  that  had  stood  by  passively  and  allowed  the 
Prince  of  Orange,  aided  by  Prussia  and  England,  to 
become  an  absolute  monarch,  and  to  treat  Holland 
like  a  conquered  country.  For  Lomenie  had  no  money 
for  troops  to  sustain  the  honor  of  his  country  and  the 
Hberty  of  her  ally.  All  these  humiliations  doubtless 
lay  heavy  on  Madame  Roland's  heart,  but  they  do 
not  explain  why  the  assembling  of  the  long-hoped-for 
States  General  left  her  still  cold  and  incredulous. 

My  own  opinion  is  that  Madame  Roland  distrusted 
this  first  revolution  because  it  was  the  work  of  the 
nobles.  It  was  an  aristocratic  movement,  and  in 
reforms  by  those  who  had  most  need  of  reformation 
she  had  no  faith.  Even  with  the  double  representa- 
tion of  the  Third  Estate,  she  was  still  mistrustful  of 
the  good  faith  of  the  King  and  the  privileged  classes. 
This  distrust,  curiously  enough,  has  been  made  a 
reproach  to  her,  as  though  it  were  not  justified  by 
every  act  of  the  monarch  and  the  aristocrats  that  fol- 


294  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

lowed  the  opening  of  the  States  General.  What  all 
France  suspected  only  after  repeated  proofs  of  unfair 
dealing  Madame  Roland  foresaw.  By  divination  or 
woman's  intuition  .?  No,  by  the  application  of  gen- 
eral principles,  by  her  knowledge  of  character,  her 
study  of  the  past,  her  bourgeois  good  sense.  Enthu- 
siast as  she  was  by  temperament,  reason  and  experi- 
ence proved  to  her  that  those  by  whom  offenses  come 
cannot  extirpate  those  offenses.  The  pressure  for 
reform  of  high-seated  abuses  must  come  from  below. 
Until  the  voice  of  the  people  was  heard  Manon  stopped 
her  ears  against  all  the  privileged  contemners  of  privi- 
lege, even  against  the  fiery  appeal  of  Mirabeau:  "Peo- 
ples, the  hour  of  awakening  has  sounded.  Liberty  is 
knocking  at  the  door;  go  to  meet  her."  But  who  was 
Mirabeau  ?  The  worst  type  of  irresponsible  aristocrat. 
A  noble,  a  rake,  a  venal,  unscrupulous  pamphleteer, 
untruthful,  dishonest,  loose-living — a  typical  child  as 
well  as  a  victim  of  the  feudal  system;  a  mercenary 
condottierey  hiring  out  his  pen  instead  of  the  sword  of 
his  Italian  ancestors.  For  the  moment  he  was  with 
the  people,  but  in  time  of  stress  would  he  not  turn 
again  to  his  king  or  his  order  ?  Events  justified 
Manon's  distrust. 

Was  her  pen  idle  through  those  two  momentous 
months  of  May  and  June,  during  the  great  trial  of 
strength  in  the  States  General .?  Roland's  severe  ill- 
ness bound  her  to  his  bedside  all  through  June,  but  in 
May  she  had  been  free  to  write,  and  many  of  her  let- 
ters of  that  time  must  have  perished,  for  not  one  has 
been  found.  How  much  had  happened  to  incite  her 
to  question  her  friends  in  Paris !     With  ever-growing 


RUMBLINGS  BEFORE  THE  STORM     295 

interest  she  must  have  read  of  the  solemn  opening  of 
the  States  General  at  Versailles  on  the  5th  of  May, 
the  retirement  of  the  privileged  classes,  the  nobility 
and  clergy,  to  verify  their  credentials  apart  on  May 
6;  the  refusal  of  the  Third  Estate  to  proceed  to  such 
verification  alone;  its  resolution  not  to  consider  itself 
constituted,  or  to  begin  its  labors  before  junction  with 
the  other  orders,  and  its  decision  that  its  sittings 
should  be  public  and  its  debates  reported  by  the 
press. 

In  June,  in  her  husband's  sick-room,  Manon  must 
have  followed  through  the  newspapers  "the  greatest 
constitutional  struggle  that  has  ever  been  fought  out 
in  the  world  by  speech  alone."  History  was  quickly 
made  in  those  longest  days  of  the  year.  On  June  10 
the  trenchant  Sieyes  struck  at  the  root  the  longest  line 
of  kings  in  Europe.  On  June  12  the  last  summons  of 
the  Third  Estate  to  the  nobles  and  clergy  was  sent, 
and  ignored,  and  on  the  following  day  that  body  began 
the  verification  of  its  powers  alone.  On  June  17, 
sanctioned  by  public  opinion,  the  Third  Order  named 
itself  "The  National  Assembly";  *^ UEtat  c'est  nous'' 
announced  these  black-robed  deputies,  who,  purposely 
humiliated  by  being  obliged  to  wear  a  kind  of  sombre 
livery,  found  themselves  "appropriately  dressed  to 
conduct  the  funeral  of  royalty"  (Gaulot).  Hardly  had 
the  lower  clergy  ("mere  Commons  in  Curates'  frocks") 
joined  the  Third  Estate,  when  they  all  found  them- 
selves shut  out  from  their  meeting-place  like  disgraced 
schoolboys,  and  forced  to  take  refuge  in  the  bare 
tennis-court  of  Versailles  (June  20).  The  solemn 
covenant  there,  the  oath  not  to  separate  until  a  new 


296  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

constitution  had  been  made,  and  the  rights  of  the 
people  assured,  surely  fired  Manon's  heart. 

Her  suspicions,  however,  were  soon  justified.  A 
futile  Seance  Roy  ale  (June  23)  followed  the  Oath. 
The  King's  belated  concessions  in  those  Thirty-five 
Articles,  which  granted  three  months  before  would 
have  been  received  with  aiFectionate  gratitude,  roused 
no  enthusiasm;  his  arbitrary  command  to  the  Three 
Orders  to  vote  separately,  for  if  they  did  not,  "seulje 
ferai  le  Men  de  mon  peupley"  proved  mere  brutum  ful- 
men.  Mirabeau  became  the  true  Thunderer,  and  his 
bolt  seared  not  only  poor  messenger  De  Breze  but 
royalty  as  well. 

The  worsted  King,  after  many  of  the  nobles  and  the 
majority  of  the  prelates  had  gone  over  to  the  Assem- 
bly, now  national,  indeed,  revoked  his  former  speech, 
and  besought  rather  than  commanded  nobles  and 
clergy  to  join  the  Third  Estate  (June  27),  apparently 
acknowledging  its  authority.  Apparently  only,  and  to 
gain  time,  for  in  the  last  days  of  June  and  the  first 
weeks  of  July  there  were  ominous  assemblings  of  for- 
eign regiments  and  strange  soldiers — Swiss,  Alsatians, 
Walloons — seen  in  Paris  suburbs.  Ten  regiments  were 
summoned  to  overawe  the  capital,  for  the  city  had 
promised  to  sustain  the  Assembly,  and  the  troops  at 
hand  would  not  move  against  the  national  representa- 
tives. Artois  assured  one  of  his  friends  that  the  King's 
submission  to  the  popular  will  would  last  only  until  his 
forces  were  concentrated,  and  added  that  "many 
heads  must  fall." 

It  has  been  lightly  asserted  and  ineptly  repeated 
that  the  monarchy  was  destroyed  through  its  clem- 


RUMBLINGS  BEFORE  THE  STORM     297 

ency.  On  the  contrary,  the  King  and  the  court  essayed 
force  again  and  again,  and  perished  because  the  army 
would  not  attack  the  people.  The  King,  when  asked 
by  Mirabeau  to  dismiss  the  troops  and  quiet  suspicion, 
declined  to  do  so,  and  proposed  instead  to  despatch  the 
Assembly  to  Soissons  or  Noyon.  The  deputies,  nat- 
urally enough,  did  not  accept  the  offer  to  send  them 
away  from  Paris,  and  "to  place  them  between  two 
camps"  (Thiers).  Vague  fears  of  a  coup  d'etat  hard- 
ened into  certainty  when  it  was  known  that  Necker 
had  been  secretly  dismissed,  and  hurried  away  on  the 
preceding  day.  For  Necker  had  suspected  that  the  in- 
tention of  the  court  was  to  unite  at  Compiegne  all  the 
members  of  the  Three  Orders  who  had  not  favored  the 
innovations;  to  make  them  consent  in  haste  to  all  the 
taxes  and  loans  that  it  (the  court)  needed,  and  then  to 
dismiss  them  (Madame  de  Stael). 


CHAPTER    XIV 

"LA    REVOLUTION    VINT    ET   NOUS 
ENFLAMMA" 

How  the  Parisian  democracy  saved  the  Assembly 
and  the  people,  the  stirring  story  of  the  14th  and  15th 
of  July,  has  been  told  by  tongues  of  flame  and  written 
in  letters  of  gold;  even  to-day  it  hurries  heart-beats. 
All  the  world  knows  of  the  acts  that  moved  the  world. 
It  is  easy  to  fancy  in  what  a  fever  of  excitement  Manon, 
still  tremulous  from  Roland's  recent  peril,  received  the 
amazing  tidings;  every  courier  brought  a  new  won- 
der, for  events  gained  hourly  on  his  foaming  horses. 
The  news  of  the  rising  of  the  people,  the  fall  of  the 
Bastille,  the  retreat  of  the  foreign  troops,  was  hardly 
read  when  fresh  wonders  pressed  hard  on  its  flank. 
"Paris  conquers  her  king.  Philosopher  Bailly  is  ap- 
pointed mayor.  Republican  Lafayette  invents  the  tri- 
color that  will  go  round  the  globe"  (July  15),  and  the 
Assembly  elects  a  commission  of  eight  to  draw  up  a 
constitution  on  the  English  model.  Absolutism  crum- 
bles in  a  day  with  its  stronghold.  If  after  more  than 
a  century  the  mere  record  of  the  swift  march  of  these 
amazing  events  finds  an  echoing  beat  in  the  reader's 
blood,  how  must  it  then  have  fired  the  hearts  of 
Frenchmen ! 

Did  Manon  believe  that  the  dreams  of  her  youth 
were  growing  into  radiant  realities,  that  the  Saturnian 
reign  had  begun,  as  she  thrilled  over  the  taking  of  the 

298 


"LA  REVOLUTION  VINT"  299 

Bastille  or  the  tranquil  courage  of  the  Assembly, 
quietly  planning  a  constitution  under  the  guns  of 
foreign  mercenaries  ?  With  these  high  deeds  in  mind, 
it  is  bewildering  to  read  her  first  letter  after  the  peo- 
ple's victory. 

July  26. 
"No,  you  are  not  free;  no  one  is  so  yet.  The  confi- 
dence of  the  public  is  betrayed,  letters  are  intercepted. 
You  complain  of  my  silence;  I  write  you  by  every  mail; 
it  is  true  that  I  no  longer  chat  with  you  about  my 
own  business;  who  is  the  traitor  that  to-day  has  any 
other  than  that  of  the  nation  ?  It  is  true  that  I  have 
advised  stronger  measures  than  have  been  adopted, 
and  meantime,  if  you  are  not  vigilant,  yours  will  only 
have  been  a  raising  aloft  of  shields.  Neither  have  I 
received  the  letter  from  you  that  our  friend  Lanthenas 
tells  me  of.  You  send  me  no  news,  and  there  should 
be  masses  of  it.  You  are  busying  yourself  with  mu- 
nicipal aflPairs,  and  you  are  letting  go  free  heads  that 
are  plotting  new  horrors.  You  are  no  more  than  chil- 
dren; your  enthusiasm  is  a  fire  of  straw,  and  if  the 
National  Assembly  does  not  formally  institute  pro- 
ceedings against  two  illustrious  heads,  or  some  gen- 
erous Decius  does  not  strike  at  them,  you  are  all 
damned.  If  this  letter  does  not  reach  you,  may  the 
cowards  who  read  it  blush  on  learning  that  it  is  from 
a  woman,  and  tremble  while  reflecting  that  she  can 
make  a  hundred  enthusiasts  who  will  inspire  a  million 
more." 

Truly    Manon    had    awakened,    and    like   a   soldier 
roused  by  sudden  alarm,  had  awakened  seizing  a  sword. 


300  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

This  was  strange  language  for  a  polished  woman, 
strange  aggressiveness  for  a  reasonable  woman,  strange 
violence  for  a  kindly  woman.  This  letter,  the  deadli- 
est document  of  Madame  Roland's  detractors,  reads 
like  a  hysterical  outbreak;  as  though  Roland's  long  ill- 
ness, with  its  jading  alternation  of  hope  and  despair, 
and  the  tense  excitement  of  the  last  two  months,  had 
exasperated  her  nerves  and  deflected  her  vision. 

Documents,  however,  can  lie  as  well  as  figures, 
when  isolated  and  cut  out  from  their  place  in  the 
sequence  of  events  that  they  illustrate  or  recount. 
The  date  of  a  paper  is  as  important  as  its  contents. 
There  was  cause,  grim  cause,  for  Madame  Roland's 
protests  and  appeals.  On  the  26th  of  July  the  Satur- 
nian  reign  was  already  over.  If  on  the  15th  of  July 
Louis  XVI  had  accepted  the  Revolution,  on  the  next 
day  his  brothers  had  emigrated,  and  the  desertion  of 
their  King  and  their  country  by  the  nobles  began  by 
the  flight  of  the  Polignacs.  The  foreign  regiments 
were  not  remanded;  they  remained  a  menace  to  liberty. 
Even  the  moderates  among  the  revolutionists,  who 
feared  another  court  plot,  petitioned  for  the  punish- 
ment of  the  authors  of  the  attempted  coup  d'etat.  Re- 
spectable bourgeois  not  far  from  Lyons  were  writing 
the  King  "to  make  a  terrible  example  of  those  who 
had  deceived  him,"  i.  <?.,  the  Queen  and  the  princes, 
his  brothers.  Just  suspicion  soon  quickened  into 
panic.  Chateaux  were  burned,  troops  of  brigands  ap- 
peared in  the  country,  dreadful  rumors  were  rife  of 
plots  at  court,  of  ships  bringing  corn  to  hungry  France 
attacked  by  English  pirates  hired  by  the  Queen  and 
Artois.     The  long  reign  of  La  Grande  Peur  had  already 


"LA  REVOLUTION  VINT"  301 

begun.  The  belief  that  the  court  was  cozening  the 
people,  which  facts  had  proved  well  founded,  was 
spreading  over  the  country,  and  with  it  a  contempt 
for  the  authority  that  was  at  once  unworthy  of  respect 
and  impotent  to  enforce  its  will. 

The  men  who  had  played  the  new  game  of  politics 
honestly,  who  had  prepared  their  cahiers  in  a  reason- 
able, conciliatory  spirit,  who  had  believed  in  the  good 
faith  of  the  King,  who  had  hoped  and  trusted,  who  had 
counted  on  a  reform  of  crying  abuses,  found  that  after 
all  the  fair  words  and  large  promises  they  were  assem- 
bled for  the  sole  purpose  of  squeezing  money  from 
the  people.  The  tone  of  angry  suspicion  in  Madame 
Roland's  letter  was  universal  in  an  indignant  France. 
Angry  and  suspicious  as  Manon  was,  fear  had  no 
part  in  her,  and  on  July  29  she  left  Lyons  to  guard 
Le  Clos,  which  she  deemed  in  danger  from  the  brigands, 
whence  she  wrote  reassuringly  to  Brissot,  who  pub- 
lished her  letter  in  his  paper,  Le  Patriote  fran9ais. 
"Three  or  four  little  lords  had  intrenched  themselves 
■  in  their  chateaux  with  cannon,  guns,  and  ammunition, 
B  seconded  by  certain  brigands  who  had  escaped  from 
Lyons.     A  dozen  of  them  were  arrested  at  Villefranche. 

I  Thereupon  one  of  the  'little  lords'  had  come  with  ten 
mounted  followers,  sabre  in  hand,  to  ask  for  the  release 
of  their  comrades.  They  had  been  met  by  the  people 
and  had  disappeared  in  a  hurry." 
All  through  the  agitated  summer  of  1789  Roland, 
barely  convalescent,  and  his  wife,  while  working  on  the 
third  volume  of  the  Dictionnaire,  begged  for  news  of 
the  Assembly,  and  followed  its  proceedings  with  criti- 
cal, sometimes  hostile,  interest.  Their  suspicions  of  the 
i 


302  MANON   PHLIPON   ROLAND 

Court's  double-dealing  did  not  abate.  Manon  had 
sneered  at  the  enthusiasm  of  the  deputies  when  the 
Kling  and  the  Queen,  with  the  dauphin  in  her  arms, 
had  visited  it  on  July  15.  "I  am  convinced  that  half 
the  Assembly  was  foolish  enough  to  be  touched  at  the 
sight  of  Antoinette  recommending  her  son  to  them. 
Morbleu !  It  may  well  be  a  question  of  a  child.  It  is 
one  of  the  welfare  of  twenty  millions  of  men.  All  is 
lost  if  we  are  not  on  our  guard."  From  the  mother  of 
Eudora  this  sounds  harsh;  from  the  patriot  it  is  a  just 
observation. 

Like  Charlotte  Corday,  Manon  had  been  "a  repub- 
lican long  before  the  Revolution."  She  had  stood 
aloof,  hoping  little  from  a  movement  led  by  nobles. 
In  the  cannon  of  the  besiegers  of  the  Bastille  she 
heard  at  last  the  vox  populi.  Her  surrender  was  as 
complete  as  her  resistance  had  been  prolonged.  Her 
capitulation  was  unconditional.  "La  Revolution  vinty'* 
and  conquered.  Madame  Roland  had  not  sought  it; 
she  was  not  one  of  the  man}^  brilliant,  intellectual 
people  who,  without  work,  position,  or  means,  sought 
in  the  new  movement  a  moyen  de  parvenir,  a  means 
of  getting  what  they  lacked,  of  carving  out  a  career 
or  a  fortune  from  the  great  upheaval.  No,  Madame 
Roland  gave  herself  to  what  she  believed  to  be  the 
cause  of  liberty  and  of  justice.  To  it  she  conse- 
crated her  life  and  the  lives  of  those  dearest  to  her. 
From  her  childhood  she  had  sought  an  ideal  worthy  of 
the  complete  immolation  of  self.  The  dominant  mo- 
tive of  her  life  had  been  devotion.  As  a  child  she  had 
longed  to  dedicate  herself  to  God.  Her  girlhood  was 
consecrated  to  the  cult  of  friendship;  as  a  maiden  she 


STATUE  OF  MADAME  ROLAND 

From  the  study  for  the  statue  of  Madame  Roland  which  is  now  in  a 

niche  on  the  southern  side  of  the  exterior  of  the 

Hotel  de  N'ille  in  Paris 


"LA  REVOLUTION  VINT"  303 

had  sacrificed  all  worldly  consideration  to  an  ideal  of 
love.  The  rather  dreary  drudgery  of  her  married  life 
her  warmth  of  heart  and  imagination  had  transmuted 
into  cheerful  occupation.  Motherhood  had  brought  an 
even  deeper  oblivion  of  herself,  and  now  in  this  new 
passion  of  patriotism,  this  enthralling  inner  vision  of 
a  fatherland,  beneficent  as  powerful,  all  the  older  loves 
seemed  fused  in  one  overmastering  passion.  To  the 
woman  who  had  wept  because  she  was  not  born  a 
Spartan  or  a  Roman,  who  had  looked  with  longing, 
envious  eyes  at  England  and  Switzerland,  hope  had 
come  like  the  angel  of  the  Annunciation.  *'  Behold  thy 
handmaid,"  Madame  Roland  had  answered  to  the 
divine  summons. 

For  the  Revolution  was  a  religion,  not  only  to  its 
leaders,  but  to  all  those,  however  obscure,  who  suf- 
fered and  fought  for  it.  It  inspired  the  same  devotion, 
the  same  sense  of  consecration,  the  same  indifference 
to  side-issues  and  minor  details,  and  the  same  insen- 
sibility to  pain,  in  self  and  in  others.  Like  all  new 
creeds,  the  Revolution  had  its  fanaticisms  and  its 
cruelties,  its  bigots  and  fanatics,  its  schisms  and  here- 
sies, its  martyrs  and  confessors,  its  inquisitors  and 
warrior-saints.  These  were  yet  to  come  in  those  early 
days  of  the  faith  in  '89  and  '90,  days  of  love-feasts  and 
fraternal  rejoicings. 

The  hope,  the  sense  of  personal  value  that  Chris- 
tianity revealed  to  materialized  paganism,  the  new 
doctrine  of  the  rights  of  man  brought  to  the  French 
people !  What !  These  human  heads  of  cattle,  good 
only  to  starve  and  toil  in  the  fields  for  their  masters, 
or  to  bleed  in  battle  for  a  wanton's  quarrel  or  a  king's 


304  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

greed,  were  then  to  count  for  something  ?  They  were 
to  own  something,  these  serfs  who  could  not  draw  a 
draft  of  water  nor  grind  a  handful  of  wheat  save 
at  their  lord's  fountain  or  mill.  These  mute  millions 
were  to  speak  for  themselves.  They  were  men,  fellow 
men,  the  new  gospel  proclaimed.  This  good  news 
sustained  them  while  they  starved  and  suffered,  and 
inspired  a  new  sense  of  human  dignity.  Far  more 
impressive  than  any  political  achievement  was  the 
kindling  of  hope  in  cold  and  faint  hearts.  Necker, 
after  three  weeks  of  exile,  hardly  recognized  the  same 
people.  Dusauty,  who  had  lived  forty  years  under 
the  ancient  regime,  noted  that  old  France  disappeared 
in  a  few  days.  "Everything  is  changed."  All  the 
young  men  were  armed  and  drilling;  men  of  eighty 
mounted  guard  with  their  great-grandsons.  **Who 
would  have  believed,"  they  said  to  him,  "that  we 
should  die  free.^*"  "The  Revolution,  all  imperfect  as 
it  is,"  Madame  Roland  wrote  Brissot,  "has  changed 
the  face  of  France.  It  has  developed  in  it  a  character, 
and  we  had  none." 

Michelet  has  recorded  in  pages  glowing  with  virile 
tenderness  the  daily  and  hourly  offerings  of  the  poor 
citizens  to  the  patria.  Too  little  is  known  of  this 
heroism  of  the  humble.  The  public  acts  of  the  Revo- 
lution, sublime  or  terrible,  that  followed  swiftly  have 
overshadowed  the  countless  individual  sacrifices  that 
marked  each  day  of  its  beginnings.  Hope  and  faith 
sustained  the  people  in  face  of  a  dissembling  king,  a 
hostile  court,  blighted  harvests,  and  increasing  dis- 
orders. For  the  first  to  abuse  enlarged  freedom  was 
rascaldom,  of  course,  and  lovers  of  order  had  to  look 


"LA  REVOLUTION  VINT"  305 

on  helplessly  at  outbreaks  of  violence  and  lawlessness. 
In  the  two  months  that  followed  the  storming  of  the 
Bastille  the  country  people  followed  the  Parisians' 
example,  and  shattered  towers  and  ruined  donjons  still 
mark  their  zeal.  It  was  natural  enough  that  the  castle 
where  those  yellow  parchments  were  hoarded  that 
gave  the  lord  mysterious  power  over  the  peasant  should 
be  the  first  sacrifice  to  Jacques  Bonhomme's  new 
liberty.  But,  though  they  hated  the  aristocracy,  all 
Frenchmen,  even  Robespierre  and  Marat,  were  royal- 
ists. The  nation  clung  to  its  old  idol,  and  excused  the 
King's  tergiversations  and  bad  faith  by  persuading  it- 
self that  he  was  deceived,  that  he  did  not  know  what  he 
was  signing  every  day.  He,  poor  man,  was  in  the  toils 
of  his  maleficent  Queen.  It  was  only  against  the  robber 
nobles,  his  immediate  oppressors,  that  the  peasant 
armed  himself  with  scythe  and  torch,  not  against  the 
"good  "  King.  Even  the  Rolands  and  their  kind  ascribed 
the  court  plots  to  the  Queen  and  the  Princes,  and  be- 
lieved that  "Louis  XVI  wishes  to  do  right."  Many 
acts  of  treachery,  irrefragable  proofs  of  double  dealing 
were  required  to  destroy  the  love  and  confidence  of 
the  people. 

As  lawlessness  increased  "it  became  urgent  to  fore- 
stall a  Jacquerie  by  a  revolution,"  as  Duruy  has  pithily 
put  it.  The  nobles  proposed  to  sell  their  proprietary 
and  abolish  their  personal  rights  over  the  peasantry 
on  their  estates.  On  the  famous  night  of  August  4, 
1789,  nobles  and  ecclesiastics,  provinces  and  towns, 
renounced  their  ancient  privileges.  In  a  few  hours 
feudalism  vanished  and  equality  was  born.  A  decla- 
ration of  rights  very  naturally  followed  the  abolition 


3o6  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

of  privileges,  and  on  August  26  the  Droits  de  I'Homme 
appeared,  the  last  act  that  the  Assembly  performed  in 
harmony.  There  was  little  harmony  elsewhere  dur- 
ing the  attempted  adjustment  of  conflicting  claims, 
and  the  sale  of  privileges  and  church-lands  which  fol- 
lowed the  renunciations  of  August  4,  and  the  Ro- 
lands passed  an  agitated  summer. 

News  of  the  death  of  Canon  Bimont,  Manon's  "dear 
little  uncle,"  who,  she  had  hoped,  would  some  day  sit 
at  her  fireside,  reached  her  in  the  early  autumn.  She 
had  no  time  to  mourn.  Troops  had  been  again  assem- 
bled at  Versailles.  On  October  i  they  had  been  feasted 
and  wined  by  the  court  to  excite  them  against  the 
people,  and  the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Assembly  was  hourly  expected.  The  news 
of  the  banquet  in  the  Orangerie  had  just  reached 
Madame  Roland  when  she  wrote  Bosc  on  October  6. 
This  letter,  evidently  dashed  off  in  great  anxiety  and 
indignation,  affords  a  curious  instance  of  her  political 
sagacity.  She  advises,  as  a  measure  of  public  safety 
the  immediate  transference  of  the  King  and  the  Assem- 
bly to  Paris  at  the  very  time  when  the  hungry  Parisian 
housewives,  a  drabbled  and  dishevelled  escort,  were 
bringing  the  royal  family  to  the  capital.  "A  plan 
must  be  made  to  carry  off  the  deputies,  and  transfer 
them  to  Paris  under  the  guard  of  the  nation,  that  they 
may  work  at  the  constitution  without  interruption. 
I  say,  carry  them  off,  for  though  it  is  their  part  to 
remain  like  Roman  senators  of  old  at  their  posts,  it  is 
the  duty  of  the  nation  to  watch  over  their  safety,  to 
cover  them  with  its  aegis,  and  to  surround  them  with 
its  protection."     The  letter  is  filled  with  other  sug- 


"LA  REVOLUTION  VINT"  307 

gestions,  many  of  which  soon  afterwards  became  mea- 
sures, viz.:  the  aboHtion  of  octrois  and  douanes,  the 
appointment  of  special  committees  to  consider  ways 
and  means  of  supplying  food  quickly  and  economically 
to  the  large  towns,  the  founding  of  a  public  pay-office 
to  cut  off  funds  from  the  treacherous  court,  and  the 
establishment  of  a  national  guard  drawn  from  all  the 
provinces  to  repress  local  disorders  and  incite  patriotic 
feeling. 

A  P.  S.  is  too  characteristic  of  the  nation  and  the 
period  to  be  omitted.  "If  the  theatres  of  the  capital 
remain  open,  as  is  to  be  assumed,  the  vigilance  of  the 
citizens  should  be  extended  to  them.  They  should  be 
allowed  to  give  only  the  plays  that  nourish  sentiments 
appropriate  to  our  circumstances;  several  of  the  great 
Corneille,  but  not  Cinna;  the  Brutus  of  Voltaire,  his 
Catiline,  his  Death  of  Caesar,  etc.  Nothing  is  to  be 
neglected  in  the  regeneration  of  a  whole  nation.  This 
same  care  should  extend  over  the  smaller  theatres; 
from  them  should  be  withdrawn  whatever  maintains 
or  stimulates  luxury,  immorality,  or  slavery."  Ma- 
non's  exaltation,  it  will  be  observed,  took  a  practical 
form. 

Both  her  enthusiasms  and  her  acquaintance  with  the 
political  situation  were  sustained  and  extended  by  her 
correspondence  with  two  new  friends,  Brissot  de  War- 
ville  and  Bancal  des  Issarts. 

At  the  same  time  her  letters  treating  of  national 
affairs  and  all  aglow  with  patriotic  feeling  began  to 
find  their  way  to  a  larger  public.  A  young  lawyer, 
Luc  Antoine  de  Rosiere  Champagneux,  who  had  left 
his  native  Dauphine  and  settled  in  Lyons,  published 


3o8  MANON   PHLIPON  ROLAND 

many  of  the  Rolands'  letters  in  his  paper,  Le  Courier 
de  Lyon.  It  was  with  him  that  on  May  30,  1790, 
Madame  Roland  watched  the  sixty  thousand  national 
guards  who  had  come  from  all  the  neighboring  country 
to  celebrate  the  feast  of  the  Federation,  defile  along  the 
quays  of  the  Rhone.  With  fire  and  water  in  her  eyes 
Manon  saw  them  pass,  and  with  them  marched  an 
ideal  made  flesh,  that  fraternity  of  man  vainly  preached 
by  Pagan  stoic  and  Christian  apostle  alike.  Here,  as 
she  looked,  the  miracle  came  to  pass;  the  narrow  hatreds 
of  province  for  province,  the  fierce  hostilities  of  town 
to  town  wavered,  softened,  melted  away  before  a 
mighty  inrush  of  brotherly  love,  of  passion  for  a  com- 
mon patria.  Aflame  with  enthusiasm,  Manon  wrote 
the  story  of  the  great  day,  and  Champagneux  pub- 
lished it  unsigned,  in  his  newspaper.  "We  printed 
more  than  sixty  thousand  of  it,"  he  says;  *' each /Mere 
wished  to  carry  one  home  with  him."  Parisian  and 
provincial  journals  copied  the  article,  long  extracts 
appeared  in  the  Patriote  fran^ais,  Camille  Desmoulins 
reprinted  it  in  extensOy  and  it  was  published  as  a  pam- 
phlet. If,  as  Michelet  says,  "  e^Lch  federe  carried  away 
with  him  something  of  the  soul  of  Madame  Roland," 
her  impassioned  idealism  awoke  an  answering  vibra- 
tion in  many  thousand  hearts  all  over  France.  She 
herself  does  not  mention  this  article  in  her  Memoirs, 
and  there  are  only  slight  references  to  her  journalistic 
work  in  her  letters. 

She  considered  Champagneux  somewhat  lacking  in 
courage,  and  though  he  was  honorable  {honnete)  he 
was  too  plausible,  too  discreet,  quite  to  reach  her 
Spartan  standard.     Her  estimate  proved  to  be  just, 


"LA  REVOLUTION  VINT"  309 

during  the  Terror,  though  she  seemed  somewhat  exact- 
ing when  she  wrote  of  his  editorial  caution:  " Foin  de 
ces  heros  de  chambre  qui  tremhlent  dans  la  premiere  rue." 

The  courage  of  her  new  friend  Brissot  was  above 
reproach,  but  no  poHtical  leader  has  ever  been  so 
blackened  by  persistent  malice  and  envenomed  party 
spirit.  "It  was  I  who  killed  him  with  my  book," 
sobbed  Camille  Desmoulins  when  Brissot  was  con- 
demned. Camille  was  even  more  guilty  than  he 
suspected;  he  had  murdered  Brissot's  good  name. 
"Calomniez,  calomniez  toujours ;  il  en  restera  quelque 
chose  y^  said  Beaumarchais,  well  qualified  to  judge  of  the 
force  of  persevering  slander,  and  "Brissot,  the  coura- 
geous publicist  and  honorable  man"  (Perroud),  is  a 
typical  example  of  its  enduring  blight. 

The  rehabilitation  of  his  memory  would  be  an 
attractive  task,  but  mine  is  limited  to  mentioning 
briefly  his  relations  with  the  Rolands.  Already  in  1787 
Brissot  had  cited  Roland's  Italian  Journey,  and  sev- 
eral of  his  articles  in  the  Encyclopedie,  with  approving 
commentary  in  his  Study  of  the  American  Revolution. 
Roland,  who  had  not  been  spoiled  by  over-praise, 
wrote  a  word  of  thanks  for  the  kindly  appreciation, 
and  an  exchange  of  courtesies  followed  between  the 
two  authors.  The  following  year  (1788)  Brissot  went 
to  America  with  Claviere,  to  treat  with  Congress  for 
the  French  debt,  and  on  his  return  to  Paris  he  founded 
a  newspaper,  Le  Patriote  fran^ais.  The  Rolands  and 
their  friends  were  among  his  collaborators.  Madame 
Roland,  as  usual,  soon  became  her  husband's  substi- 
tute. She  says  in  her  Memoirs:  "My  letters,  full  of 
enthusiasm,   pleased    Brissot,   who  often   printed   ex- 


3IO  MANON   PHLIPON   ROLAND 

tracts  from  them  in  his  paper,  where  I  found  them 
with  pleasure.  These  frequent  communications  united 
us  in  friendship."  Indeed,  they  were  comrades  in  arms 
when  they  met  in  Paris  in  1791. 


CHAPTER   XV 

BANCAL    DES   ISSARTS 

Jean  Henri  Bancal  des  Issarts  was  also  a  con- 
tributor to  Brissot's  paper,  and  a  member  of  Brissot's 
abolitionist  club,  Les  Amis  des  Noirs.  Like  Lanthenas 
and  Bosc,  he  was  a  zealous  worker  in  the  secret 
societies  that  smoothed  the  path  of  the  Revolution. 
The  youngest  son  of  a  prosperous  merchant  of  Cler- 
mont Ferrand,  Bancal  had  studied  at  the  University  of 
Orleans,  and  bought  a  notary's  practice  in  Paris.  There 
his  new  environment,  the  new  atmosphere  pollent  with 
new  ideas,  and  contact  with  new  friends  turned  his 
thoughts  towards  a  career  in  politics  or  philanthropy. 
In  1788  he  sold  his  office,  wrote  a  Declaration  of 
Rights,  and  made  a  tour  through  Auvergne  expounding 
and  spreading  the  new  gospel.  On  his  return  to  Paris 
he  was  named  elector  for  his  district  of  Saint  Eustache 
(April  21,  1789).  He  was  a  foreground  figure  in  the 
momentous  scenes  of  July,  and  ultimately  became 
Brissot's  lieutenant.  In  November  Auvergne  named 
him  as  one  of  her  envoys  to  the  Assembly.  He  was  in 
the  vanguard  of  the  innovators,  and  one  of  the  found- 
ers of  the  Jacobin  Club,  when  a  slight  check  to  his 
poHtical  ambitions  completely  changed  his  aims.  The 
role  of  peripatetic  apostle  of  the  new  doctrines  sud- 
denly allured  him  and,  abandoning  Paris,  he  set  out 
for  the  south  of  France.  There  he  was  not  only  to 
sow  the  good  seed,  but,  combining  the  labors  of  the 

3" 


312  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

missionary  with  those  of  a  real-estate  agent,  he  was 
to  keep  a  watchful  eye  on  any  especially  likely  piece 
of  ecclesiastical  property  (then  become  national)  for 
sale.  Bancal  had  enthusiastically  entered  into  Lan- 
thenas's  scheme  for  a  community  life  of  kindred  minds, 
like  that  of  the  Moravian  Brothers.  Brissot,  Bosc,  and 
the  Rolands,  as  well  as  the  English  Quaker  Piggott, 
of  republican  ideals,  were  all  interested  in  the  project, 
which  was  somewhat  prosaically  called  the  "Agricul- 
tural Society."  The  vast  domains  of  the  clergy  had 
just  been  put  on  the  market  by  the  decree  of  the 
Assembly,  March  20,  and  the  little  group  of  friends 
hoped  to  acquire  an  estate  held  in  common,  where 
they  might  cultivate  their  fields  and  their  minds, 
divide  the  work  and  the  profits,  and  lead  the  simple 
life,  pleasantly  flavored  with  intellectual  interests  and 
literary  pursuits. 

On  his  way  south  Bancal  was  to  visit  the  Rolands, 
whom  he  had  never  met,  though  he  and  Madame  had 
already  exchanged  letters.  She  had  begun  the  corre- 
spondence with  a  cordial  though  rather  studied  letter 
(June  22,  1790),  introducing  herself  and  her  husband 
to  Bancal  as  members  of  the  little  coterie  in  Paris, 
inviting  him  to  Le  Clos,  and  referring  to  the  project, 
then  very  much  to  the  fore,  of  the  community  life. 
Politic  as  the  letter  was,  its  tone  was  indicative  of  the 
sentiments  that  were  already  shaping  the  forms  of 
polite  intercourse.  "Since  Frenchmen  have  gained  a 
country,  between  those  who  are  worthy  of  this  blessing 
there  should  be  a  tie  that  draws  them  together  in  spite 
of  distance,  and  unites  them  in  the  same  cause.  A 
friend  of  the  Revolution  cannot  be  a  stranger  to  any 


BANCAL  DES  ISSARTS  313 

one  who  loves  the  Revolution,  and  who  desires  to 
contribute  to  its  complete  success."  This  was  Manon's 
entree  en  matiere.  She  ended  her  letter  with  a  very 
clear-sighted  observation  on  the  political  conditions  in 
Lyons,  and  a  sentence  that  shows  her  enthusiasm  had 
not  deflected  her  view  of  realities.  "A  generation  must 
pass  away  before  the  scars  of  the  fetters  that  the  peo- 
ple have  worn  so  long  disappear,  and  before  the  self- 
respect  is  born  that  renders  man  equal  to  his  liberty, 
and  protects  him  and  it." 

These  reflections  and  the  earnestness  in  the  writer 
that  they  implied  did  not  frighten  away  Bancal.  He 
accepted  the  invitation,  and  during  the  first  week  in 
July  he  and  the  Rolands  rode  out  from  Lyons  to  the 
Clos,  where  he  spent  a  few  delightful  days  and  prom- 
ised to  return  in  the  summer.  Bancal  was  a  new  type 
of  humanity  to  Madame  Roland.  He  was  at  once 
more  a  man  of  business  and  of  the  world  than  Lanthe- 
nas,  more  introspective  and  philosophical  than  Bosc, 
more  polished  and  considerate  than  Roland.  Bancal's 
love  of  liberty  and  devotion  to  the  public  good  were 
tinged  with  exaltation,  and  consequently  subject  to 
an  occasional  melancholy  reaction.  Indeed,  a  ten- 
dency to  depression  tempered  the  ardent  vitality  of 
his  mature  manhood.  At  crucial  moments  a  slight 
hesitation  between  warring  ideals  was  apt  not  to 
arrest  but  to  delay  his  decisions.  But  this  predomi- 
nance of  reflection  over  action  was  so  slight,  and  gen- 
erally accompanied  with  such  delicate  consideration  for 
not  only  the  rights  but  the  feehngs  of  others,  that  it 
took  on  the  air  of  renunciation  rather  than  of  inde- 
cision.    A  comfortable  fortune  had  furthered  his  dis- 


314  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

interestedness  and  stimulated  his  natural  generosity, 
and  in  the  little  coterie  he  filled  the  role  of  a  modest 
Maecenas. 

To  this  sensitive,  high-minded  man  Manon  proved 
irresistible.  Bancal  was  subjugated  at  once.  And 
Manon  ?  She  was  used  to  rousing  emotional  as  well 
as  intellectual  interest.  The  evident  admiration  of 
this  accomplished  and  polished  person  she  accepted 
quite  naturally  at  first.  He  seemed  to  be  but  paying 
the  customary  tribute  to  her  queenship,  like  the  other 
house  friends  over  whom  she  reigned  so  sweetly  and 
playfully. 

A  brisk  correspondence  followed  Bancal's  first  visit. 
Manon's  letters  were  sent  first  to  Bosc,  who  showed 
them  to  Brissot  and  others  of  his  friends  in  Paris, 
then  franked  them  and  forwarded  them  to  Bancal, 
who  obtained  final  possession  of  them.  They  form  a 
curious  melange  of  pohtical  and  local  news,  philosophi- 
cal reflections,  and  friendly,  almost  affectionate  mes- 
sages. 

The  local  news  was  exciting,  at  times  alarming. 
The  disorganization  of  the  whole  administrative  ma- 
chine continued.  With  a  discredited  executive  and  a 
general  lack  of  respect  for  authority,  disorders  naturally 
increased  in  the  Lyonnais  as  they  had  in  Paris,  and 
throughout  the  country.  Patriot  and  Royalist  alike 
were  dissatisfied  with  the  delays,  many  of  them  wise, 
and  the  compromises,  some  of  them  statesmanlike,  of 
the  National  Assembly.  The  nobility,  clergy,  and  the 
higher  bourgeoisie  grew  colder  towards  the  Revolu- 
tion. To  its  partisans  they  ascribed  the  increasing 
lawlessness  and  the  universal  insecurity;  they  foresaw 


BANCAL  DES   ISSARTS  315 

a  general  overturn  {culbute  generate)  if  order  was  not 
promptly  restored.  The  generous  outburst  of  feeling 
that  had  inspired  the  acts  of  the  4th  of  August,  the 
noble  passion  for  justice,  for  rendering  unto  the  people 
what  belonged  to  the  people,  had  shrunk  into  a  grudg- 
ing assent  to  a  hard  political  necessity.  The  task  in 
hours  of  gladness  willed  was  being  fulfilled  in  months 
of  deepest  gloom.  The  sale  of  ecclesiastical  property 
augmented  the  discontent  and  alarm  of  the  erstwhile 
privileged  classes,  and  many  sincerely  believed  that 
the  salvation  of  France  lay  in  a  return  to  absolutism. 

Roland's  sympathy  with  the  artisan,  his  resolute 
and  whole-hearted  support  of  the  Revolution  was 
regarded  as  treachery  to  his  own  order.  He  was  de- 
nounced as  an  agitator  and  a  demagogue,  and  his  wife 
shared  his  unpopularity.  Prejudice  and  injustice  were 
unfortunately  not  exclusively  Royalist;  the  Revolu- 
tionists also  had  grown  embittered  and  suspicious. 
Every  act  of  violence  was  imputed  by  them  to  the 
machinations  of  aristocrats  trying  to  discredit  the  gov- 
ernment; every  uprising  had  been  factitiously  fomented 
by  the  agents  of  the  court  as  a  pretext  for  calling  in 
troops  to  terrorize  the  people.  Mistrust  was  general 
and  was  manifested  sometimes  tragically,  often  comi- 
cally. 

Madame  Roland  has  been  censured  by  one  of  her 
ablest  biographers  for  her  constant  apprehension  of  a 
counter-revolution  or  of  an  armed  invasion,  for  her  ap- 
peals to  the  Revolutionary  deputies  and  her  insisting 
on  perpetual  vigilance.  The  papers  found  on  a  Royalist 
emissary  arrested  at  Bourgoin  proved  the  existence  of 
a  plot  formidable  enough  to  justify  her  fears.     These 


3i6  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

letters  showed  that  Artois  was  to  invade  Burgundy,  the 
King  was  to  escape  from  Paris  and  join  him  at  Lyons, 
where,  aided  by  foreign  arms,  the  old  regime  was  to 
be  re-estabhshed.  Madame  Roland  was  not  afraid  of 
shadows.  She  was  not  a  Cassandra  predicting  woe 
and  defeat.  Her  letters  to  the  *'Triumvirate,"  as  she 
called  the  three  friends,  Bancal,  Bosc,  and  Lanthenas, 
were  trumpet-calls  to  civic  courage,  spirited  incitements 
to  action.  If  she  mourned  over  the  edict  of  the  Assem- 
bly, limiting  the  liberty  of  the  press,  if  she  very  sensi- 
bly pleaded  for  an  accounting  of  the  expenditure  of 
public  moneys,  "toujours  des  millions,  et  jamais  des 
compteSy'  if  she  believed  that  "security  is  the  tomb  of 
liberty,'*  and  that  "indulgence  to  men  in  authority 
tempts  them  to  tyranny,"  it  was  not  because  her 
faith  in  the  principles  of  the  Revolution  and  in  the 
inherent  justice  of  it  ever  faltered.  If  to-day  she 
seems  overcredulous  in  her  minute  reports  of  the 
rumors,  accusations,  refutations,  charges,  and  counter- 
charges that  harassed  Lyons  throughout  the  summer 
of  1790,  the  real  dangers  of  the  situation  and  the  con- 
stant menace  of  foreign  invasion  should  be  borne  in 
mind.  Manon  did  not  fear  for  herself;  her  terrors  were 
for  the  loss  of  liberty,  for  the  return  of  the  old  vassal- 
age and  the  old  abuses.  And  there  are  brave  and 
wise  words  in  her  letters  worthy  of  the  child  of  Plu- 
tarch: ^'Quand  on  ne  s^est  pas  habitue  a  identifier  son 
interet  et  sa  gloire  avec  le  bien  et  la  splendeur  du  general, 
on  va  toujours  petitement,  se  recherchant  soi-m^me,  et 
perdant  de  vue  le  but  auquel  on  devroit  teiidre." 

"There  is  no  example  of  the  peaceful  regeneration 
of  an  empire;  it  is  probably  an  illusion.     Adversity  is 


BANCAL  DES   ISSARTS  317 

the  school  of  nations  as  of  man,  and  I  believe  that  we 
must  be  purified  by  it  to  be  worthy.  What  shall  we 
do  ?  Fight  with  courage  and  constancy.  .  .  .  Com- 
bat for  combat,  is  it  not  sweeter  to  fight  for  the  hap- 
piness of  a  whole  nation  than  for  one's  own  private 
felicity  ^  Is  the  life  of  the  sage  in  society  anything 
but  a  continual  battle  against  prejudice  and  passions  ? 
.  .  .  They  [the  Royalists]  will  struggle  in  vain;  blood 
will  be  shed  but  tyranny  will  not  be  re-established. 
Its  iron  throne  is  shaken  throughout  Europe,  and  the 
efforts  of  potentates  only  hasten  its  destruction.  Let 
it  fall.  Even  should  we  remain  under  its  ruins  a  new 
generation  will  arise  to  enjoy  the  liberty  that  we  have 
won  for  it,  and  to  bless  our  efforts."  "Either  one  must 
watch  and  preach  till  one's  last  breath  or  have  nothing 
to  do  with  revolution."  These  are  brave  words,  but 
behind  the  sentences  there  is  a  courageous  woman. 
The  heroic  fibre  is  sometimes  a  little  hard,  and  the 
patriot  is  forced  to  be  indifferent  to  the  pain  of  others 
as  well  as  to  her  own.  In  pursuing  a  straight  line  of 
action  obstacles  are  more  often  destroyed  than  turned, 
and  some  gentle  and  delicate  things  are  trodden  down 
in  the  onward  march.  Madame  Roland's  impatience 
of  half-measures  is  not  always  statesmanlike.  In  the 
present  instance  her  dissatisfaction  with  the  Assembly 
was  justifiable;  a  conservative  reaction  had  set  in  that 
threatened  the  liberties  won  during  the  past  year. 

Between  the  storms  France  enjoyed  some  halcyon 
days,  those  of  the  Federation.  From  Paris  Bancal 
had  written  of  the  great  fete  on  the  Champ  de  Mars. 
"There  is  a  certain  canto  [sic]  in  the  Iliad  that  threw 
me  into  a  fever  when  I  first  read  it;  your  description 


3i8  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

has  done  as  much,"  Manon  assured  Bancal.  How- 
ever, Roland  regretted  that  the  federes  should  have 
kissed  the  dauphin's  hand,  but  Manon  was  not  dis- 
pleased at  the  unsympathetic  attitude  of  the  King;  it 
would  prevent  him  from  profiting  by  the  immense 
upwelling  of  love  and  enthusiasm  that  overflowed 
French  hearts  at  this  feast  of  fraternity. 

Meantime  Lyons  was  in  a  ferment.  A  measure  that 
Roland  had  ardently  advocated,  the  suppression  of  the 
octrois^  had  been  passed  by  the  municipal  government 
on  July  10.  On  July  13  the  decree  was  rescinded  by 
the  Assembly,  influenced  by  the  remonstrances  of  the 
tax-farmers.  The  octrois  had  weighed  heavily  on  the 
working  people  of  Lyons,  and  the  abolition  of  them 
had  caused  much  rejoicing.  Their  re-establishment 
was  immediately  followed  by  an  uprising,  promptly 
crushed  by  troops,  who  then  occupied  the  town.  The 
revolutionists  feared  that  the  riot  was  deliberately  in- 
stigated by  the  aristocrats  to  serve  as  a  pretext  for 
quartering  foreign  regiments  in  Lyons  to  aid  a  Royal- 
ist invasion  from  Savoy. 

Although  Roland  was  at  Le  Clos  during  the  distur- 
bance, he  was  accused  of  fomenting  it.  Belonging  by 
birth  to  the  nobility,  by  sympathy  to  the  people,  and 
by  his  activities  to  the  bourgeoisie,  Roland  had  ene- 
mies as  well  as  friends  in  all  classes.  To  reconnoitre, 
and  to  investigate  the  case  against  him,  Madame  Ro- 
land left  the  Clos  on  August  4,  and  rode  to  Lyons 
alone.  "I  don't  care  to  have  my  husband  go  back  to 
Lyons,"  she  wrote  Bancal;  "an  honest  man  is  as 
quickly  hanged  as  any  one,  and  though  it  is  glorious  to 
die  for  one's  country,  it  is  not  so  to  swing  from  a  lamp- 


BANCAL  DES  ISSARTS  319 

post.  ...  As  it  is  not  yet  the  custom  to  hang  women 
to  lamp-posts,  I  shall  direct  my  palfrey  towards  town 
to-morrow,  Friday."  She  was  hardly  known  in  Lyons, 
where  Roland  was  often  taken  for  an  abbe  on  account 
of  his  simple  dress  and  grave  manner,  and,  therefore, 
ran  little  risk  in  visiting  it.  On  the  evening  of  her 
arrival  she  wrote  to  Bancal  that  she  had  found  the  red 
flag  floating  over  the  town  hall  and  the  city  under 
martial  law.  Foreign  regiments  were  expected  "to 
overawe  the  people,"  said  the  Royalists,  "to  faciHtate 
the  entrance  of  a  Sardinian  army  with  Artois  at  its 
head,"  whispered  the  patriots,  and  their  surmise  proved 
correct  when  Artois's  emissary  was  captured  a  little 
later.  Manon  was  in  despair;  "the  counter-revolu- 
tion has  begun."  "The  town  is  a  sewer  of  the  filth 
of  the  old  regime."  One  hope  remained:  the  national 
militia  of  Dauphine  was  to  guard  the  frontier  of  Savoy. 
Her  own  grievance  faded  away  beside  the  deeper 
anxieties,  the  hunger  and  misery  of  the  people.  She 
heard  some  vague  accusations  against  Roland,  but 
nothing  precise,  nothing  that  could  be  taken  up  and 
confuted.  "We  cannot  abase  ourselves  to  run  after 
calumn}^;  we  cannot  pursue  reptiles,"  she  wrote 
proudly.  "I  should  not  take  it  ill  if  we  were  called  to 
the  bar  of  the  National  Assembly.  Our  friend  [Roland] 
would  be  like  Scipio  before  the  assembly  of  the  people." 
In  Villefranche,  however,  the  most  absurd  rumors 
were  rife.  The  town  buzzed  with  gossip;  accompanied 
by  a  woman  whom  in  reality  she  had  never  met,  Manon 
was  reported  to  have  visited  the  garrets  of  Lyons  to 
bribe  the  outcasts  of  the  city  to  riot;  on  one  important 
occasion  the  commandant  of  the  national  guards  was 


320  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

not  on  duty  "because  he  was  at  the  feet  of  Madame 
Roland,"  slanderers  averred,  though  she  did  not  know 
him  and  was  at  Le  CIos  at  the  time.  These  were  but 
old  tales  new  vamped.  The  Abbe  Guillon,  credulous, 
as  a  typical  mauvaise  langue  is  apt  to  be,  gravely  reports 
that  when  Roland  was  a  candidate  for  municipal  office 
in  1789,  he  frequented  low  pot-houses  in  disguise,  got 
drunk  with  the  workmen,  begged  for  votes,  and  dis- 
tributed incendiary  pamphlets ! 

Although  the  false  reports  about  herself  did  not 
ruffle  Manon,  and  she  took  no  steps  to  refute  them — 
"to  justify  a  woman  is  almost  always  to  compromise 
her,"  "I  shall  be  washed  white  when  the  innocence  of 
my  husband  is  proved" — she  was  angered  by  her 
brother-in-law,  the  canon's,  momentary  belief  in 
them.  "'If  any  one  had  told  me  that  through  fanati- 
cism you  had  murdered  your  brother  I  should  have 
immediately  rejected  the  stupid  tale,  notwithstanding 
my  knowledge  of  your  opinions,"  she  exclaimed  indig- 
nantly. "You  are  wrong,"  replied  the  ecclesiastic,  to 
whom  the  comparison  could  not  have  been  ingratiat- 
ing; "one  can  only  answer  for  one's  self,  and  cannot 
always  do  that."  "Truly,"  returned  Manon.  "I  see 
that  in  Alexander's  place  you  would  not  have  taken 
the  potion  from  Philip.  Also,"  she  added  mentally, 
"you  are  not  a  hero"  (July  28).  Poor  Manon  found 
few  of  them  outside  of  book  covers. 

Two  days  later  (August  30)  Bancal  and  Lanthenas 
arrived  at  Le  Clos  for  the  long-promised  visit.  It 
proved  a  pleasant  one.  Though  Manon  told  Bosc  that 
the  little  company  paid  more  attention  to  the  songs  of 
the  birds  than  the  decrees  of  the  legists,  and  every- 


BANCAL  DES  ISSARTS  321 

body  wrote  all  the  mornings  in  busy  solitude,  the  after- 
noons were  spent  together.  The  friends  explored  the 
woods,  preached  to  the  peasants,  played  battledore 
and  shuttlecock,  argued  with  the  cure,  planned  a  politi- 
cal and  educational  campaign,  and  talked  over  the 
details  of  their  future  life  in  common.  This  Utopian 
scheme  was  gradually  abandoned  as  interest  in  na- 
tional affairs  deepened,  and  Brook  Farm  had  no 
French  predecessor;  the  project  was,  however,  seriously 
discussed  all  through  the  summer  and  autumn. 

During  the  villeggiatura  at  Le  Clos,  Bancal's  admira- 
tion of  Manon  had  grown  with  proximity.  She  was  at 
her  best  in  the  country,  more  spontaneous,  more  care- 
free. Something  of  the  gay  abandon  of  the  south  and 
the  season  relaxed  her  habitual  strenuousness  and 
heightened  her  glowing  vitality.  Beautiful,  judged  by 
classic  canon  or  conventional  standard,  she  was  not, 
but  the  charm  of  Manon's  bright  face  illumined  by  the 
radiant  energy  of  her  intelligence,  of  her  look,  vivid  as 
a  flame,  the  magic  of  her  mellow  voice,  vibrating 
deliciously  when  she  was  stirred  by  some  hope  for 
the  future,  some  wrong  or  shame  of  the  present,  every 
man  who  knew  her  well  has  acknowledged.  And  Ban- 
cal's  immediate  surrender  to  the  spell  of  her  fervent 
personality  was  followed  by  a  nobler  capitulation  to 
her  courage,  her  impassioned  interest  in  abstract  ques- 
tions of  right  and  duty,  her  mental  integrity  that  never 
tried  to  elude  the  conclusions  of  straight  reasoning, 
and  suffered  no  compromise  with  consequences.  A 
woman  who  induces  a  man's  feeling  for  her  to  run  in 
the  same  channel  with  his  finer  enthusiasms  inspires 
devotion,  even  when  she  does  not  confer  happiness. 


322  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

But  to  love  a  woman  wedded  to  duty  is  to  forswear 
felicity;  Bancal  left  Le  Clos  on  October  2,  agitated  and 
melancholy,  and  Manon's  first  letter  to  him  afterwards 
was  incoherent  and  "adorably  imprudent,"  Michelet 
says.  What  had  happened  to  tinge  with  warmer  color 
the  lucid  crystal  of  their  friendship  ?  Probably  some 
betrayal  on  Bancal's  part  of  a  deeper  feeling  than 
Manon's  confiding  affection  for  him  authorized  had 
touched  and  distressed  her.  She  had  already  warned 
him  that  her  friendship  must  be  based  on  esteem,  and 
that  his  high  ideals  were  the  source  and  guaranty  of 
their  mutual  attachment.  Such  a  notice  to  trespassers 
was  in  nowise  fatuous  in  a  period  of  almost  obligatory 
gallantry,  when  a  gentleman  who  found  himself  alone 
with  a  lady  and  did  not  pay  court  to  her  was  consid- 
ered ill  bred.  Bancal  was  a  man  of  social  experience, 
a  word  to  the  worldly  wise  was  not  amiss,  so  Manon 
had  early  in  their  acquaintance  sent  him  a  gentle 
caveat  (August  4,  1790):  "At  sunrise  to-day  I  left  my 
solitude  and  mon  ami  (Roland).  How  pleasant  it  was 
in  the  woods  to  give  myself  up  to  the  sight  of  nature 
awakening  from  sleep !  I  often  thought  of  you  as  I 
passed  over  the  road  we  travelled  together.  You  are 
called  to  know  all  that  can  be  known  of  happiness  in 
this  world,  for  you  feel  the  price  of  virtue;  there  is 
nothing  beyond  that !  But  it  is  not  of  this  that  I 
wish  to  write  you."  This  prettily  veiled  admonition, 
a  manifest  hors  d'ceuvrey  was  followed  by  a  straightfor- 
ward account  of  Manon's  eventful  day  in  Lyons  (Au- 
gust 4). 

Two  months  later  her  sunny  tranquillity  was  troub- 
led.    Evidently   Bancal  was  more   redoubtable  than 


BANCAL  DES  ISSARTS  323 

Bosc  and  Lanthenas  had  been,  whose  boyish  affection 
Manon's  tact  and  wisdom  had  transmuted  into  dis- 
interested and  devoted  friendship.  The  elder-sisterly, 
half-laughing,  half-scolding  tone  would  be  quite  out 
of  place  with  Bancal,  who  was  her  senior,  and  a  man 
of  the  world.  The  strictest  of  women  is  apt  to  look 
indulgently  on  the  victim  of  her  attractions,  even 
when  she  is  not  moved  to  reciprocal  tenderness,  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that  Manon  for  a  time,  at  least,  was 
affected  by  Bancal's  infatuation. 

Immediately  after  leaving  Le  Clos,  Bancal  wrote 
Roland,  urging  a  realization  of  the  project  of  a  life  in 
common.  Roland  answered  cordially,  and  sent  on  the 
letter  to  Manon.  Bancal's  eagerness,  and  perhaps  the 
intimate  satisfaction  she  felt  in  it,  startled  her.  The 
prospect  of  daily  contact  with  a  sympathetic  man 
who  had,  perhaps,  betrayed  the  ardor  of  his  feeling 
for  her,  seemed  too  pleasant  to  be  safe.  Roland's  abso- 
lute confidence  imposed  flawless  loyalty.  Bancal  was 
a  friend,  beloved  by  both  husband  and  wife.  He  must 
continue  to  be  so,  and  Manon  desired  to  dismiss  the 
would-be  lover  but  to  keep  the  friend.  Her  methods 
are  open  to  criticism;  their  results  were  admirable. 
She  wrote  Bancal  straight  from  her  heart,  confessed 
her  fears,  declared  her  behef  in  his  honor,  made  him 
the  guardian  of  their  conduct  by  leaving  everything  in 
his  hands,  and  mingling  dovehke  candor  with  ophidian 
sagacity,  forbade  him  to  hope  while  bidding  him  not 
to  despair. 

Peals  of  thunder  were  rolling  from  hill  to  hill,  the 
air  grew  black  and  heavy,  while  Manon  wrote.  It 
seems  as  though  the  alternate  depression  and  exalta- 


324  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

tion  of  nerves  relaxed  and  strung  dominated  her  as  she 
wrote,  obscuring  her  habitual  lucidity  and  deflecting 
her  usual  straightforwardness. 

"I  take  up  my  pen  without  knowing  what  it  will 
indite,  without  deciding  what  I  am  going  to  write. 
My  mind  is  busy  with  a  thousand  ideas  that  doubtless 
I  should  find  easier  to  express  if  they  were  accompanied 
by  less  agitating  feelings.  Why  are  my  eyes  dimmed 
by  tears  that  fall  only  to  well  up  again  ?  My  will  is 
upright,  my  heart  is  pure,  and  yet  I  am  not  at  ease. 
It  will  be  the  charm  of  our  lives,  and  we  shall  not  be 
useless  to  our  fellows,  you  say  of  the  affection  that 
unites  us,  and  these  consoling  words  have  not  yet 
restored  my  peace;  it  is  because  I  am  not  sure  of  your 
happiness,  and  I  should  never  forgive  myself  for  hav- 
ing troubled  it.  It  is  because  I  have  believed  that 
you  have  built  it,  partly  at  least,  on  a  false  basis,  on 
a  hope  that  I  ought  to  forbid.  .  .  .  Who  can  foresee 
the  effect  of  violent  agitations  too  often  renewed  ? 
Would  they  not  be  dangerous  if  they  had  no  other 
effect  than  the  languor  that  follows  them,  weakens 
the  moral  sense,  and  leaves  it  no  longer  equal  to  any 
emergency } 

*'I  am  mistaken.  You  do  not  experience  this  un- 
worthy alternation  of  feeling.  You  might  be  sad  at 
times.  You  would  never  be  weak.  The  thought  of 
your  strength  gives  me  back  my  own,  and  I  shall  taste 
the  happiness  that  Heaven  has  allotted  to  me,  behev- 
ing  that  it  has  not  permitted  me  to  trouble  yours,  and 
has  even  bestowed  on  me  some  means  of  increasing  it. 
.  .  .  Tell  me,  or  rather  let  us  know  what  you  are 
doing,  your  projects,  what  you  have  learned  of  public 


BANCAL  DES  ISSARTS  325 

affairs,  and  what  you  propose  to  do  for  them."  Here 
Manon  sketched  a  charming  picture  of  Bancal's  home- 
coming to  Clermont,  and  laments  his  necessity  for  sac- 
rificing domestic  life  to  duty  to  the  nation.  Then, 
with  a  sudden  return  to  sentiment:  "Why  is  it  that 
the  sheet  I  am  writing  cannot  be  sent  to  you  without 
mystery  ?  Why  can  I  not  show  to  all  eyes  what  I 
would  dare  to  offer  to  Divinity  itself?  Assuredly  I 
can  call  Heaven  to  witness  my  vows  and  my  intentions. 
It  is  sweet  to  think  that  it  hears,  sees  me,  and  judges 
me.  Of  what  value,  then,  would  be  social  inconsisten- 
cies and  human  prejudices,  through  which  it  is  difficult 
to  guide  one's  heart,  if  to  disdain  for  empty  conven- 
tions were  not  united  courage  for  self-sacrifice,  firmness 
of  character,  and  purity  of  intention  to  keep  to  the 
straight  line  of  duty  ^ 

**When  shall  we  see  each  other  again  ^  A  question 
which  I  often  ask  myself,  and  which  I  dare  not  answer. 
But  why  do  we  seek  to  divine  the  future  that  Nature 
conceals  from  us  ?  Let  us  leave  it  under  the  imposing 
veil  with  which  she  covers  it.  .  .  .  We  have  over  it 
only  one  influence,  a  great  one,  doubtless — to  prepare 
our  future  happiness  by  a  wise  use  of  the  present.  .  .  . 
Thus,  the  dearest  friends  can  bear  absence  because 
they  can  consecrate  their  time  to  cultivating  virtues  of 
which  they  can  give  an  account  to  each  other.  What 
duties  are  not  made  delectable  by  such  a  charming 
obligation  ?  Can  we  complain  of  anything  in  the 
world  when  one  has  a  soul  to  appreciate  this  privilege  ? 
And  ought  I  to  have  alarms  and  fears  for  you  who  feel 
it  so  keenly  ^  No,  they  are  unjust  to  you.  Pardon 
me  those  fears  which  are  caused  by  that  tender  anxiety 


326  MANON  PHLIPON   ROLAND 

too  near  to  the  weakness  of  a  sex  whose  courage  even 
is  not  always  firm.  .  .  . 

"The  fine  days  that  we  spent  here  together  have 
not  been  followed  by  others  like  them.  The  very  eve- 
ning you  left  the  weather  changed,  and,  oddly  enough 
in  this  season,  for  the  p«ast  week  we  have  not  had 
twenty-four  hours  without  thunder.  It  has  just  rum- 
bled again.  I  like  the  color  that  it  lends  to  our  land- 
scape; it  is  august  and  sombre,  but  even  if  it  were  ter- 
rible it  would  not  terrify  me.  The  phenomena  of 
nature  .  .  .  only  offer  to  a  being  of  feeling,  preoccu- 
pied with  great  interests,  minor  and  less  important 
scenes  than  those  of  which  his  own  heart  is  the  theatre. 
Adieu,  my  friend,  it  is  almost  unkind  to  talk  to  you 
when  you  cannot  answer  me,  but  if  there  is  some  cruelty 
in  taking  this  slight  advantage  you  will  pardon  me." 

Twenty  days  later  in  another  private  chat  on  paper 
— "une  petite  causerie  a  part'' — Manon  had  recovered 
her  wonted  poise  and  serenity.  Bancal  had  suddenly 
decided  to  visit  England,  leaving  his  political  career 
and  adjourning  his  missionary  tours  indefinitely.  He 
believed,  and  wisely,  perhaps,  that  souls  do  change 
with  skies,  and  that  the  best  remedium  amoris  is  ab- 
sence, fresh  realms  for  thought,  and  new  pasture  for 
the  eye.  Manon  divined  his  reason,  and  reluctantly 
approved  of  it,  in  a  rather  sad  but  courageous  letter. 
Eudora  is  also  to  leave  home  for  a  convent  school,  and 
the  critical  but  fond  mother  is  already  suffering  the 
sullen  ache  of  separation  from  her  petite,  to  whose 
education  she  would  gladly  give  all  the  time  spent  on 
the  Dictionnaire.  "To  lessen  the  sorrow  that  the  ob- 
ject of  my  journey  reawakens,  I  shall  take  advantage 


BANCAL  DES   ISSARTS  327 

of  it  to  make  some  purchases  which  concern  you,  since 
they  are  to  clothe  these  orphans  that  you  wished  to 
help.  I  confess  that  the  pleasure  of  doing  good  in  the 
name  of  those  who  are  dear  to  me  cannot  be  too 
highly  paid.  Since  destiny  weighs  the  pain  of  human 
beings  against  their  pleasure,  whoever  can  love  and 
be  useful  cannot  complain.  ...  It  is  impossible,  my 
dear  friend,  that  we  should  ever  cease  to  understand 
each  other.  Imagination  wanders,  reason  errs,  phi- 
losophy even  deceives  itself  or  us,  sometimes,  but  a 
true  heart  turns  always  towards  the  truth.  I  stop 
here  in  order  to  add  something  to-morrow  before 
sending  this  letter  to  the  post.  It  is  midnight.  I  am 
in  the  study — where  very  soon  I  shall  be  unable  to 
read  alone  before  retiring.  They  have  dislodged  me 
for  this  winter.  .  .  .  Good-by  a  thousand  times,  or, 
TZtheTy  never  good-hy."  (October  28.)  What  thought, 
what  memory  caught  at  her  flying  pen,  what  picture 
filled  the  space  Manon  left  after  the  word  study .? 
An  innocent,  even  if  a  tender  one,  may  be  safely  as- 
sumed. 

During  the  quiet  months  that  followed  Bancal's 
departure  Manon  "found  herself"  again,  and  the  rela- 
tions between  the  friends  declined  in  intensity.  Grad- 
ually the  tone  of  the  letters  altered  and  personal  feeling 
was  merged  in  patriotic  emotion.  The  personal  note 
is  often  struck,  however.  Indeed,  all  Manon's  letters 
show  unflagging  interest  in  her  correspondents'  tasks 
and  opinions,  as  well  as  in  the  news  of  their  daily  life. 
Indeed,  the  sentiments  and  thoughts  of  her  friends 
were  more  important  to  her  than  external  facts.  As 
the  march  of  public  events  quickened  in  pace,  how- 


328  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

ever,  the  tone  of  the  letters  became  more  and  more 
political.  The  transitions  were  gentle,  there  was  no 
sudden  quenching  of  the  fitful  flame  of  passion  which 
gradually  sank  into  a  warm,  steadfast  glow  of  amicable 
regard  worthy  of  friendship's  altar. 

In  Manon's  method,  if  what  was  partly  instinct, 
partly  design,  can  be  so  termed,  an  attack,  a  tumult  of 
feeling,  a  brief  period  of  stress  and  struggle,  were  but 
the  initial  stage  of  a  loyal  and  devoted  comradeship, 
the  novice's  probation  in  the  sentimental  life.  She  was 
extremely  susceptible  to  the  pain  she  caused,  perhaps 
in  some  instances  she  overrated  it,  and  lavished  an 
excess  of  balm  on  a  slight  wound.  Still  she  was  a  bet- 
ter judge  of  these  cases  than  we  can  be  who  can  only 
see  them  dimly  through  the  faded  ink  and  fallen  dust 
of  old  letters. 

**She  had  the  coquetry  of  virtue,"  Dumouriez  re- 
marked, a  connoisseur  of  more  concrete  coquetries,  and 
he  was  right.  Manon  desired  to  please,  aimed  to 
attach — pour  le  bon  motif — and  was  bent  on  the  con- 
quest of  those  she  admired  and  esteemed.  She  was 
an  adept  in  the  delicate  art  of  attraction,  but  with  her 
it  was  a  delicate  art,  not  a  crude  appeal  to  a  primitive 
instinct.  No  one  of  her  admirers  was  not  a  better 
man  for  having  loved  her.  As  Circe's  potion  made 
brutes  of  men,  Manon's  pure  spell  awoke  in  them  the 
hero. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  recall  an  honorable  person  to 
reason,  but  to  render  duty  lovely,  and  to  fix,  without 
pedantry  or  prudishness,  the  limits  of  an  attachment 
is  a  rare  achievement.  Manon's  warm  heart  and  light 
hand  softened  her  rigors,  but  she  did  not  spare  them. 


BANCAL  DES  ISSARTS  329 

She  took  it  for  granted  that  the  right  was  as  dear  to 
Bancal  as  to  herself,  and  by  considering  him  irre- 
proachable she  kept  him  so — absence  and  other  absorb- 
ing interests  aiding. 

In  reading  a  correspondence  of  the  age  of  Rousseau 
and  sensibility,  it  is  well  to  consider  that  the  writers 
revelled  in  the  unreserved  expression  of  their  emotions, 
which  one  suspects  grew  in  intensity  with  the  effort 
to  portray  them.  Poor  blind  Madame  du  Deffand, 
old  enough  to  be  his  grandmother,  scared  Horace  Wal- 
pole  by  the  ardor  of  her  letters.  The  Duchesse  de 
Choiseul,  and  the  Abbe  Barthelemy,  the  recipients  of 
equally  affectionate  messages,  could  have  reassured  the 
embarrassed  Englishman  as  to  the  honorabihty  of  the 
marquise's  intentions. 

Manon  was  apt  to  be  captivated  from  time  to  time 
by  a  new  interest  or  a  new  friend,  and  for  the  mo- 
ment Bancal  held  the  field.  She  distinguished  him 
from  the  other  members  of  the  triumvirate  by  occa- 
sionally sending  him  a  letter  for  himself  alone,  but 
many  of  her  communications  are  joint  affairs,  Roland, 
Lanthenas,  and  Bosc  writing  on  the  same  sheets,  or 
interpolating  messages.  None  of  Bancal's  replies  have 
been  preserved,  only  his  comments  on  the  margins  of 
Manon's  letters.  In  1835  Henriette,  Bancal's  eldest 
daughter,  brought  these  papers  to  Renuel,  who  pub- 
Hshed  them  with  the  admirable  and  now  classic  "In- 
troduction" of  Sainte-Beuve.  Many  of  these  letters 
were  misdated;  thanks  to  M.  Perroud,  they  are  now 
correctly  arranged,  and  as  useful  to  the  historian  as  to 
the  biographer. 

Bancal's  brusque  decision  to  visit  England,  and  his 


330  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

abandonment  of  the  scheme  for  the  simple  life,  sur- 
prised his  friends.  He  explained  his  change  of  plans 
plausibly  enough  as  a  desire  to  study  free  institutions 
at  close  range  and  to  strengthen  the  ties  between  the 
English  society  of  "Friends  of  the  Revolution"  and 
the  French  revolutionists.  Bancal's  ambition  had 
been  humbled  at  the  same  time  that  his  heart  was 
wounded,  for  he  had  not  been  elected  either  in  Cler- 
mont or  in  Paris  to  the  political  office  he  coveted. 
Mid-November  saw  him  in  London  in  a  circle  of  lib- 
erals: Quakers,  Unitarians,  and  Deists,  all  reformers 
and  innovators,  cosmopolitan  in  their  sympathies, 
generous  in  their  aims,  and  friends  of  New  France. 
In  December  Bancal's  father  died,  and  Manon  wrote 
the  bereaved  son,  who  reproached  himself  bitterly  for 
his  absence  from  home  at  the  time,  an  exquisite  letter 
informed  with  what  one  is  tempted  to  call  the  logic 
of  the  heart.  Fearing  the  effect  of  grief  and  loneliness 
on  a  sensitive  and  melancholy  temperament  in  the 
gloom  of  an  English  winter,  she  had  begged  him  to 
return  to  his  own  family. 

Deeply  affected  by  his  grief,  and  playing  in  all  sin- 
cerity a  woman's  favorite  part  of  paraclete,  Manon, 
rather  indiscreetly  (but  whenever  was  she  prudent  .f"), 
confessed  that,  though  she  had  silenced  every  consid- 
eration that  was  not  for  Bancal's  honor  and  happiness, 
as  dear  to  her  as  her  own:  "Some  day  I  shall  show 
you  some  things  that  will  cause  you  little  surprise,  but 
which  will  surely  please  you.  I  have  not  spent  the 
time  that  has  passed  in  your  absence  without  putting 
on  paper  different  things  intended  for  you.  You  will 
see  them  in  due  time,  for  I  have  had  no  thought  that 


BANCAL   DES   ISSARTS  331 

was  not  worthy  of  me  to  express  and  of  you  to  hear." 
Also,  she  had  arranged  to  have  the  papers  sent  to  him 
during  a  sudden  illness  when  she  beHeved  herself  dan- 
gerously ill. 

"We  have  been  brought  to  the  same  point  of  view 
by  different  ways.  The  twilight  of  the  tomb  is  more 
fitted  to  reveal  truth  than  the  dazzHng  splendor  of 
the  sun.  .  .  .  'There  is  no  more  peace  for  me,'  you 
have  dared  to  say.  .  .  .  With  an  enlightened  mind 
that  knows  its  duties  and  cannot  wander  from  virtue, 
and  a  generous  heart  that  enjoys  its  exquisite  charm, 
couldst  thou  be  unhappy  and  pity  thyself.^  No,  for 
then  thou  wouldst  not  be  thyself,  or  my  friend.  Ah ! 
Dare  to  look  your  Hfe  in  the  face,  count  the  good  things 
with  which  you  can  embellish  it,  and  thou  wilt  be 
more  just,  and  give  thanks  to  the  gods. "  (January  26, 
1791.) 

After  this  avowal  there  naturally  followed  a  reac- 
tion, a  reasonable  one,  for  on  the  ist  of  February 
Roland  had  been  given  a  special  mission  to  Paris,  and 
his  wife  was  to  accompany  him.  Manon  then  feared 
that  her  insistence  on  Bancal's  return  to  France  might 
be  misinterpreted,  and  wrote  (February  11,  1791): 

"Lanthenas  [who  had  begged  Bancal  to  return  to 
France]  wrote  you  formerly  from  a  heart  devoted  to 
the  duties  of  an  apostleship  that  he  fills  with  admirable 
zeal  and  forgetfulness  of  self.  He  cannot  imagine  that 
a  French  citizen  ought  to  be  anywhere  but  among  his 
brothers,  or  occupied  with  anything  but  serving  and 
enlightening  them.  While  I  applaud  his  conduct, 
which  adds  to  my  esteem  for  him,  I  do  not  adopt  his 
views  exclusively.     There  is  more  than  one  way  of 


332  MANON  PHLIPON  ROLAND 

being  useful,  and  each  one  is  permitted  to  choose  his 
own,  that  for  which  he  is  most  fitted.  ...  I  believe 
this  from  what  you  have  done,  for  you  have  not  acted 
by  chance,  but  have  wished  as  much  as  any  one  to 
serve  your  country."  She  advises  him  to  seek  counsel 
of  his  friends,  and  ends  with  a  word  of  warning.  "I 
shall  not  have  the  false  delicacy  to  conceal  from  you 
that  I  am  going  to  Paris,  and  I  will  push  frankness  far 
enough  to  agree  that  this  circumstance  adds  much  to 
my  scruples  in  inviting  you  to  return.  There  is  in  our 
situation  an  infinite  number  of  trifles  and  shades  of 
meaning  that  are  keenly  felt,  though  they  cannot  be 
explained.  But  what  is  very  clear  and  what  I  can 
express  frankly  is  that  I  should  never  wish  to  see  you 
at  the  expense  of  the  reason  that  should  guide  your 
conduct,  and  that  you  had  allowed  to  yield  to  a  pass- 
ing motive  or  a  partial  afi^ection.  Remember  that  if 
I  need  the  happiness  of  my  friends,  this  happiness  is 
attached  for  those  who  feel  as  we  do  to  absolute  irre- 
proachability." 

Poor  Bancal !  This  reminder,  following  a  tender 
missive,  was  a  sharp  touch  of  frost  on  rebudding 
flowers  of  feeling.  No  wonder  that  he  underlined  in- 
dignantly the  words  ** wished  to  serve  your  country," 
and  commented  between  the  lines:  ^^ Wished!  What 
an  expression !  When  I  was  an  active  elector  in  1789, 
member  of  the  first  permanent  Committee,  exposed  to 
all  the  dangers,  all  the  hardships  of  the  Revolution, 
when  I  sat  continuously  for  two  days  and  a  night  in  a 
Committee  of  Subsistence  that  saved  Paris  from  fam- 
ine; I  have  done  more  than  wished.  .  .  .  Can  it  be 
forgotten  that  a  member  of  the  Permanent  Committee 


BANCAL  DES  ISSARTS  333 

who  created  and  assembled  the  National  Guard  has 
done  more  for  his  country  in  three  days  than  others 
could  do  in  years  ?" 

Thus  protested  the  misunderstood  and  undervalued 
Bancal,  who  then  decided  to  remain  in  England. 


APPENDIXES 


APPENDIX   I 
THE  PORTRAITS  OF  MADAME  ROLAND 

**Was  Manon  good  to  look  at?"  we  wondered  when  she 
o'emamed  her  suitors,  for  "in  speaking  of  a  lady  these  trifles 
become  important,"  Gibbon  said  apologetically  before  cata- 
loguing Zenobia's  attractions.  The  modem  historian  is  not 
apologetic.  Following  Michelet  and  Taine,  he  endeavors  to 
reconstruct  the  appearance  and  habitat  of  his  subjects.  The 
shell  of  an  exceptional  human  creature  is  significant,  especially 
when  it  belongs  to  a  sex  wherein  function  is  largely  deter- 
mined by  form.  The  archaeologist  and  the  art  critic  aid 
the  biographer,  and  research  now  scrutinizes  marble  and 
bronze,  wood  and  stone,  canvas  and  ivory,  as  closely  as 
texts  and  MSS.,  and  of  late  years  some  notable  additions 
have  been  made  to  the  list  of  authentic  portraits  of  Madame 
Roland. 

She  was  often  sketched  by  her  literary  contemporaries, 
and  their  descriptions  have  helped  to  identify  some  new 
discoveries  in  galleries  and  private  collections.  She  left  a 
most  carefully  finished  pen  portrait  of  herself;  it  might  seem 
flattered  if  her  own  words  were  not  supplemented  and  cor- 
roborated by  those  of  friends  and  opponents,  who  saw  her 
as  she  saw  herself.  She  was  tall  rather  than  short,  plump 
rather  than  slender,  held  herself  very  erect,  moved  lightly 
and  quickly,  and  possessed  a  firm  and  graceful  carriage. 
Her  face  was  not  striking  except  for  its  brilliant  coloring, 
its  sweetness,  and  expression.  Not  a  feature  was  regular, 
but  they  were  all  pleasing.  Her  mouth  was  large  compared 
with  the  conventional  rosebud,  and  more  critical  than  tender, 
but  her  smile  was  radiant,  and  her  teeth  well-matched  pearls. 
Her  eyes  were  hazel  gray  pers,  like  those  of  Henry  IV's 
Belle  Gabrielle,  hardly  large  enough  for  her  own  taste,  and 
a  trifle  prominent;  her  dark  eyebrows,  very  delicately  pen- 
cilled, were  vivaciously  arched.     Her  nose  was  the  chief 

337 


338  APPENDIX  I 

sinner  against  regularity  in  her  face;  it  was  thick  and  rather 
blunt  at  the  end,  a  witty,  curious,  loquacious  nose,  comelier 
in  profile  than  in  full  face.  Manon's  chin  was,  she  confesses, 
of  the  type  physiognomists,  notably  her  friend  Lavater, 
attribute  to  the  voluptuary,  and  she  adds  with  a  touch  of 
regret:  "Indeed,  when  I  combine  all  the  peculiarities  of  my 
character,  I  doubt  if  ever  an  individual  was  more  formed  for 
pleasure,  or  has  tasted  it  so  little." 

Manon's  forehead,  generally  covered,  was  high;  her  com- 
plexion was  more  animated  than  delicate;  even  in  maturity 
her  wholesome  color  mantled  and  paled  like  a  sensitive 
girl's.  Well-rounded  arms,  elegantly  formed  hands,  with 
long,  dexterous  fingers,  close  this  catalogue  raisonne  of  her 
attractions.  The  poor  prisoner  counted  them  as  the  de- 
spoiled sadly  compute  their  stolen  riches:  "I  have  lost 
many  of  them,  especially  such  as  depend  upon  bloom  and 
plumpness,  but  those  which  remain  are  sufficient  to  conceal, 
without  any  assistance  of  art,  five  or  six  years  of  my  age, 
and  even  the  persons  who  see  me  every  day  must  be  told 
of  it  to  believe  me  more  than  two  or  three  and  thirty.  My 
portrait  has  been  often  drawn,  painted,  and  engraved,  but 
none  of  these  presentments  give  an  idea  of  my  person  (the 
cameo  of  Langlois  is  the  least  bad).  It  is  difficult  to  seize, 
because  I  have  more  soul  than  face,  more  mind  than  features. 
An  ordinary  artist  cannot  express  this;  it  is  probable  that 
he  would  not  see  it.  My  face  grows  animated  in  proportion 
to  the  interest  with  which  I  am  inspired.  I  generally  please 
because  I  dislike  to  oflFend,  but  it  is  not  granted  to  all  to 
find  me  handsome,  or  to  discover  my  worth.  Camille 
[Desmoulins]  was  right  when  he  expressed  his  amazement 
that  'at  my  age  and  with  so  little  beauty'  I  still  had  what 
he  called  adorers.  I  have  never  spoken  to  him,  but  it  is 
probable  that  with  a  person  of  his  kind  I  should  be  cold  and 
silent,  if  I  were  not  absolutely  repellent.*' 

Truly  a  comprehensive  setting  forth  of  the  outer  woman. 
Is  the  painter  too  complaisant  for  her  model  ?  Others  have 
sketched  more  slightly  the  same  subject;  we  can  glance  at 
their  impressions. 

Arthur  Young,  who  saw  Madame  Roland  in  December, 
1789,  wrote  vaguely  of  her  that  she  was  young  and  hand- 
some.    Lemontey,  who  knew  her  before  '89,  is  less  concise. 


APPENDIX  I  339 

"Her  eyes,  the  shape  of  her  head,  and  her  hair  were  remarka- 
bly beautiful.  Her  delicate  complexion  had  a  bloom  and  a 
color  which,  joined  to  her  expression  of  reserve  and  modesty, 
made  her  look  much  younger  than  she  was.  I  did  not  find 
in  her  the  facile  elegance  of  the  Parisian  which  she  attrib- 
utes to  herself  in  her  Memoirs;  not  that  I  mean  that  she 
was  awkward,  because  what  is  simple  and  natural  will  never 
lack  grace.  I  remember  that  the  first  time  that  I  saw  her 
she  realized  for  me  my  idea  of  the  little  girl  of  Vevey  who 
turned  so  many  heads,  the  Julie  of  J.  J.  Rousseau.  And  when 
I  heard  her  the  illusion  was  still  more  complete.  Madame 
Roland  spoke  well,  too  well.  One's  vanity  would  have 
liked  to  find  something  studied  in  what  she  said,  but  hers 
was  simply  a  too  perfect  gift  of  nature.  Wit,  good  sense, 
propriety  of  expression,  piquant  reason,  simple  grace,  flowed 
without  study  between  teeth  of  ivory  and  rosy  lips;  force 
Hail  de  s'y  resigiier." 

Dumouriez,  the  colleague  of  Roland  in  the  Ministry,  who 
saw  madame  frequently,  described  her  as  "a  woman  between 
thirty  and  forty,  very  blooming,  with  a  most  interesting 
face,  and  always  elegantly  dressed"  (Memoirs,  HI).  Tissot, 
a  contemporary  historian  of  the  Revolution,  says  of  her: 
"Without  being  regularly  beautiful,  Madame  Roland  had 
her  own  kind  of  beauty;  an  elegant  figure,  easy  and  natural 
movements,  a  kind  smile,  an  air  of  candor  and  serenity; 
her  large  black  eyes,  full  of  vivacity,  crowned  with  eyebrows 
dark  like  her  hair,  reflected  in  their  mobile  expression  all 
that  passed  in  her  heart"  (Histoire  de  la  Revolution, 
Tome  HI). 

Women's  portraits  of  women  are  generally  more  realistic 
than  those  of  men.  Madame  Roland  was  sketched  by  two 
clever  authoresses,  who  were  also  her  friends  and  admirers. 
Madame  Sophie  Grandchamp's  first  impression  of  her  was 
obtained  at  the  Jacobin  Club  in  1791 :  "I  still  see  that  famous 
woman  seated  near  a  little  table,  in  a  riding  habit,  her  black 
hair  cut  a  la  jockei  [square  across  the  forehead],  her  brilliant 
complexion,  her  soft  yet  piercing  eyes." 

To  Helena  Williams,  the  English  republican,  Madame 
Roland  appeared  "tall  and  well  shaped;  her  air  was  dignified, 
and  although  more  than  thirty-five  years  of  age,  she  was  still 
handsome.     Her  countenance  had  an  expression  of  uncom- 


340  APPENDIX  I 

mon  sweetness,  and  her  full  dark  eyes  beamed  with  the 
brightest  rays  of  intelligence." 

To  Count  Beugnot,  who  disliked  political  women,  who  was 
a  royalist,  and  who  had  never  seen  Madame  Roland  until 
he  met  her  in  the  Conciergerie,  we  owe  the  most  finished  of 
these  pen  portraits:  "Madame  Roland  was  from  thirty- 
five  to  forty  years  old;  her  face  was  not  regularly  beauti- 
ful but  very  agreeable  .  .  .  her  figure  was  gracefully 
rounded,  and  her  hand  was  perfectly  modelled.  Her  glance 
was  full  of  expression,  and  even  in  repose  her  face  was  noble 
and  engaging.  She  had  no  need  to  speak  to  be  suspected  of 
wit,  but  no  woman  spoke  with  more  purity,  grace,  and  ele- 
gance. She  owed  perhaps  to  the  habit  of  speaking  Italian 
the  talent  to  give  to  the  French  tongue  a  rhythm  and  a 
truly  novel  cadence.  She  set  off  the  harmony  of  her  voice 
by  gestures  full  of  nobility  and  truth,  and  by  the  expression 
of  her  eyes  that  became  animated  with  her  discourse,  and  I 
felt  each  day  a  new  charm  in  hstening  to  her,  less  in  what  she 
said  than  in  the  magic  of  her  speech." 

If  for  a  plastic  image  of  this  graceful,  brilliant  woman  we 
consult  the  prints  in  the  Coste  collection  at  Lyons,  that  of 
Vatel  at  Versailles,  those  of  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale, 
and  the  Musee  Carnavalet,  some  idea  of  Madame  Roland, 
colorless,  silent,  and  in  repose,  may  be  gained.  In  them  she 
appears  as  a  piquant,  attractive  person  with  a  clever,  amiable 
face,  somewhat  lacking  in  distinction.  What  is  sadly  want- 
ing in  them  is  the  spirit  and  elevation  which  her  many  inter- 
ests and  high  enthusiasm  lent  her  when  she  spoke  or  thought 
or  felt,  and  which  were  so  perfectly  expressed  in  her  mobile 
face  that  "you  would  have  said  her  very  body  thought"; 
in  a  word:  transparency.  Hers  was  not  the  beauty  of  noble 
or  delicate  lines;  she  would  have  been  plain  in  a  photograph, 
and  in  a  good  engraving  is  only  pleasing. 

In  the  chateau  of  Rosiere  near  Bourgoin  (Isere),  the  home 
of  the  Rolands'  great-granddaughter,  Madame  Taillet,  is  a 
drawing  in  red  chalk,  somewhat  faded,  of  Madame  Roland. 
Her  descendants  consider  it  the  best  likeness  of  their  ances- 
tress. According  to  family  tradition,  it  was  drawn  in  prison 
and  given  to  the  bonne.  Marguerite  Fleury,  for  Eudora 
Roland  shortly  before  her  mother's  death.     It  is  a  profile; 


APPENDIX  I  341 

indeed,  Madame  Roland's  people  believe  that  she  was  never 
drawn  or  painted  except  in  this  way,  possibly  because  she 
mentioned  in  her  detailed  description  of  herself  that  her 
nose  "a  little  thick  at  the  end,  appeared  less  so  in  profile." 
A  copy  of  this  drawing  in  black  crayon  also  exists  at  Rosiere, 
made  (1827)  by  Eliza  Bosc,  the  daughter  of  the  Rolands' 
devoted  friend,  and  a  second  copy,  by  Mademoiselle  Melanie 
Guerin,  is  in  Paris  in  the  apartment  of  a  granddaughter  of 
Madame  Roland,  Madame  Marillier. 

Most  of  the  engravings  were  made  after  this  portrait, 
and  they  all  possess  a  strong  family  likeness.  The  propor- 
tions of  the  features  differ  slightly  in  Bonneville's,  Pasquier's, 
Nicollet's,  and  Gaucher's  plates,  Dien  has  added  a  cap  to 
his  rather  ordinary  head,  and  Mademoiselle  Aspasie  La 
Ferriere  and  Delpech  have  perhaps  sweetened  and  softened 
the  traits  of  the  original  drawing.  After  it  also  was  modelled 
the  medallion  by  David  d'Angers.  The  cameo  of  the 
Carnavalet  suggests  Gaucher's  engraving,  while  Couriger's 
vigorous  little  medal  in  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale  shows  a 
more  direct  inspiration. 

The  coiffure  and  costume  are  the  same  in  all  these  different 
renderings.  The  hair  cut  short  across  the  forehead  and 
rolled  at  the  sides  of  the  head  a  la  jockei,  as  Madame  Grand- 
champ  called  it,  hangs  loosely  in  rich  curls  on  the  shoulders. 
The  dress  is  the  tight-fitting,  double-breasted  coat  of  1792 
with  its  two  rows  of  buttons  and  buckled  belt  (seen  more 
plainly  in  Bonneville's  plate  than  in  the  others).  The 
crossed  neckerchief  is  worn  close  and  high,  and  a  collarette 
of  ribbon  is  knotted  under  the  chin. 

In  a  weakly  painted  miniature  in  my  own  possession  that 
closely  resembles  Mademoiselle  Aspasie  La  Ferriere's  draw- 
ing, the  hair  is  powdered,  and  the  dress  and  ribbon  necklet 
are  red.  The  lines  of  the  profile  have  been  retouched  in  black 
and  the  roses  have  faded  from  the  face,  as  in  so  many  old 
miniatures  that  have  been  exposed  to  the  light.  Color  was 
Madame  Roland's  strong  point,  and  the  brush  should  have 
treated  her  more  tenderly  than  the  burin,  but  her  friend 
Champagneux  says  in  his  preface  to  an  edition  of  her  Mem- 
oirs (that  of  1800)  that  four  artists  had  failed  in  painting 
her.     A  silhouette  of  her  with  her  husband  and  child,  by 


342  APPENDIX  I 

Lavater,  at  Rosiere,  and  her  portrait  by  the  physionotrace 
have  never  been  reproduced,  but  they  probably  would  prove 
equally  unsatisfactory.* 

From  M.  Perroud  I  learn  that  M.  Nouvion,  a  magistrate 
of  Nimes,  possesses  a  portrait  of  Madame  Roland  by  Prud- 
hon,  painted  in  1792,  which  Madame  Taillet  considers  au- 
thentic, and  that  another  portrait  is  owned  by  M.  le  comte 
Duchatel,  ex-ambassador  to  Vienna.  In  the  Paris  exhibition 
of  Portraits  of  Women  some  years  ago,  there  was  a  canvas 
said  to  represent  Madame  Roland  seated  on  a  sofa  with  a 
little  dog  at  her  side. 

I  have  not  seen  these  three  pictures,  or  any  reproductions 
of  them.  Among  the  portraits  called  Madame  Roland, 
with  no  justification  for  the  title,  is  a  painting  of  a  pretty 
woman  with  blue  eyes  and  chestnut  hair  in  the  Musee 
Carnavalet,  which  is  manifestly  apocryphal,  and  a  portrait 
by  Heinsius  at  Versailles.  The  latter  represents  an  affected 
person,  with  a  vulgar  simper  and  a  bold  expression,  exceed- 
ingly decolletee.  The  attribution  is  unsupported  by  docu- 
mentary evidence,  and  seems  an  affront  to  the  memory  of 
the  modest  and  dignified  citoyenne.  Madame  Roland's 
family  and  Madame  Fougere,  widow  of  M.  Fougere,  who 
collected  and  edited  many  of  the  papiers  Roland,  protested 
against  this  unwarranted  ascription,  but  it  has  not  been  cor- 
rected either  in  the  official  guides  or  on  the  picture.  M. 
de  Nolhac  has,  however,  promised  that  in  the  next  edition 
of  the  catalogue  a  sceptical  interrogation-point  shall  follow 
the  name.  This  portrait  has  been  so  often  reproduced  by 
photography,  on  postal  cards  and  in  works  on  Madame  Ro- 
land, notably  Dauban's,  that  I  may  be  pardoned  for  insisting 
on  its  probable  spuriousness. 

As  to  the  terra-cotta  bust  of  Morin,  executed  in  1790,  now 
in  the  collection  of  M.  Taigny,  reproduced  in  Armand 
Dayot's  Revolution  Fran9aise,  it  does  not  bear  the  slightest 
resemblance  to  Madame  Roland's  authentic  portraits,  and 
if  intended  for  her  the  sculptor  was  curiouslv  unfaithful 
to  his  model. 

Of  Mademoiselle  Phlipon  only  one,  a  childishly  ill-drawn 
engraving,  has  come  to  light.     It  is  now  in  the  collection  of 

*The  physionotrace  portrait  hasbeen  reproduced;  doubtless  since  the 
above  was  written. — Ed. 


APPENDIX  I  343 

prints  in  the  Musee  Carnavalet,  and  was  published  by  M. 
Join-Lambert  in  his  Manage  de  Madame  Roland.  This  may 
be  the  portrait,  drawn  by  her  father,  which  Manon  gave  to 
Sophie  Cannet  (August  20,  1774),  and  which  Roland  saw  In 
Amiens  before  he  met  the  original.  The  rough  little  en- 
graving may  suggest  Manon  as  a  jolly  peasant  lass  trotting 
to  Etampes  on  her  donkey,  but  is  too  feebly  treated  to  be  a 
satisfactory  portrait. 

A  charming  little  head  in  the  Musee  Carnavalet,  labelled 
"Madame  Roland  when  a  child,"  is  of  a  later  period  in  style 
than  that  of  Manon's  girlhood.  It  may  possibly  represent 
Eudora  Roland,  her  daughter. 

Though  the  wife  of  the  minister  of  the  interior  was  often 
engraved,  painted,  and  modelled  in  1792,  there  are  no  por- 
traits of  the  comparatively  obscure  Madame  de  la  Platiere 
from  1780-90.  Some  years  ago  M,  Gonsse  discovered  a 
bust  of  a  nameless  lady,  by  an  unknown  sculptor,  in  the  attic 
of  the  ducal  palace  at  Nevers,  which  he  named  Madame 
Roland,  and  ascribed  to  the  Lyonnese  sculptor  Chinard,  a 
friend  of  the  Rolands.  It  is  a  thinner,  sharper,  more  un- 
easily alert  person  than  the  familiar  engravings  of  the  Revo- 
lution show.  The  face  is  worn,  almost  haggard,  and  the 
expression  is  unquiet,  the  mouth  ironical.  If  it  is  indeed  a 
portrait  of  Madame  Roland  it  differs  curiously  from  the  one 
modelled  later  by  Chinard,  now  in  the  collection  of  M. 
Aynard  in  Lyons. 

The  Fougere  legacy  of  1899  to  the  National  Library  of 
Paris  included  a  brilliant  drawing  by  Danloux  of  Madame 
Roland.  It  is  a  rather  bravura  portrait,  but  is  as  distinguished 
as  it  is  spirited.  The  hair  is  curled,  frosted  with  powder, 
and  piled  high  on  the  head,  in  the  fashion  of  the  early  nineties. 
The  chin  is  lifted,  neckerchief  and  revers  are  a-flutter,  and 
in  the  superb  carriage  of  head  and  shoulders  there  is  some- 
thing of  the  arrogant  bel  air  of  the  fine  lady. 

There  is  no  touch  of  haughtiness,  characteristic  or  conven- 
tional, in  M.  Aynard's  beautiful  terra-cotta  term  modelled 
after  Chinard's  return  from  Rome.  The  sculptor  Chinard 
was  one  of  the  two  French  artists,  pensioners  of  the  Villa 
Medici,  who  were  imprisoned  by  the  Pope  for  their  republi- 
can opinions.  It  was  to  hberate  them  that  Madame  Roland 
wrote  the  well-known  letter  to  the  "Prince  Bishop  of  Rome." 


344  APPENDIX  I 

Perhaps  the  remembrance  of  this  signal  service  was  in  the 
sculptor's  mind,  ennobling  his  model.  Undoubtedly  his 
Roman  sojourn  had  enlarged  his  rather  literal  first  manner; 
in  any  case,  Chinard's  is  the  most  genial  and  captivating 
of  Madame  Roland's  many  portraits.  It  justifies  the  en- 
thusiasm of  her  contemporaries,  for  which  scant  excuse 
is  offered  by  the  engravings  that  head  the  Memoirs. 

Chinard's  bust  represents  a  woman  in  the  late  summer  of 
life.  Her  classic  robe  is  folded  tunicwise  over  the  bosom, 
her  dense  hair  falls  loosely  on  her  shoulders  and  is  cut  square 
across  the  brow.  The  special  charm  of  the  work  is  its  charac- 
terization. The  sympathetic  face,  grave  yet  tender,  gener- 
ously rather  than  keenly  intelligent,  may  express  the  genius 
of  the  Gironde,  ardent  yet  magnanimous. 

The  only  portrait  of  herself,  however,  that  received 
Madame  Roland's  approval  was  "/<?  camee  de  Langlois" 
which  she  temperately  termed  "the  least  bad  of  them  all." 
Where  is  this  camee  de  Langlois?  Has  it  survived  the  wreck 
of  so  many  stronger  things  .?  What  is  it  ?  Has  it  come  down 
to  us  ?  These  questions  M.  Vatel,  the  historian  of  the 
Gironde,  asked  himself,  and  time  and  effort  answered  them. 
To  appreciate  the  knowledge,  patience,  intelligence,  and  intui- 
tion with  which  M.  Vatel  pursued  his  quest,  his  own  account 
of  it  should  be  read.  The  problem,  worthy  of  the  keenest 
sleuths  of  fiction,  was:  to  find  a  small,  fragile  object,  not 
remarkable  per  se,  of  little  intrinsic  value,  the  property  of  a 
condemned  person  whose  goods  were  confiscated,  which 
disappeared  in  a  time  of  revolution  when  property  was  no 
more  respected  than  life.  This  problem  was  solved  in  a 
manner  which  would  have  honored  those  world-renowned 
specialists  M.  Dupin  and  Sherlock  Holmes.  No  tale  of 
Gaboriau's  shows  more  constructive  ingenuity,  no  Sergeant 
CufF  of  fiction  manifests  a  more  remarkable  fusion  of  in- 
stinctive flair  and  ratiocination,  than  this  learned  and  digni- 
fied magistrate  in  his  tireless  yet  discreet  pursuit.  If  the 
story  of  Madame  Roland's  MSS.  is  a  romance  of  adventure, 
the  discovery  of  her  miniature  is  an  exciting  detective  story. 
It  would  take  too  long  to  follow  the  process;  the  result  of 
M.  Vatel's  chase  claims  our  interest. 

The  Archives  of  Paris  are  beautifully  housed  in  the  Hotel 
de  Soubise.    Few  visitors  who  come  to  see  the  elegantly  deco- 


APPENDIX  I  345 

rated  rooms,  the  letters  of  Henry  IV,  or  the  signature  (cross) 
of  Jeanne  d'Arc,  notice  in  case  No.  125  a  quantity  of  tattered, 
blotted  MSS.  and  the  miniature  of  a  woman  set  in  a  thin 
rim  of  gold.  It  has  evidently  been  taken  out  of  a  box-lid 
or  a  more  elaborate  frame,  for  the  slim  golden  circle  is  battered 
and  the  miniature  is  cracked.  It  represents  a  woman  still 
)^oung,  rosy,  dark  haired  and  eyed,  with  the  features,  the 
shape  of  the  head,  the  coiffure,  and  the  coloring  of  Madame 
Roland.  It  also  resembles  her  great-granddaughter,  Madame 
Taillet.  A  small  fichu  en  sautoir,  a  simple  white  gown,  a 
broad  blue  sash,  date  the  costume  1792.  The  facture  of 
the  miniature  is  that  of  Jerome  Langlois,  a  pupil  of  Vien, 
the  well-known  miniaturist.  Langlois  had  made  a  specialty 
of  ^'portraits  en  miniatures  et  en  camees";  this  latter  term 
seems  to  designate  some  particular  technical  process.  This 
one  is  au  fixe,  as  it  was  called  in  the  eighteenth  century; 
it  adhered  to  the  glass;  which  is  unfortunate,  as  the  glass  is 
cracked,  and  the  fissure  runs  through  the  chin.  A  painter 
who  examined  the  miniature  for  me  pronounced  it  a  clever 
piece  of  painting,  a  little  forced  in  effect,  and  not  quite  true 
in  lighting,  as  the  side  of  the  face  in  shadow  is  not  on  the 
same  atmospheric  plane  as  the  lighted  side.  It  was  interest- 
ing to  discover  later  that  this  same  peculiarity  had  been  ob- 
served by  M.  Sensier,  an  expert  in  the  art  and  history  of  the 
Revolution,  who  in  1872  inspected  the  miniature  at  the 
request  of  M.  Vatel. 

The  family  tradition  that  Madame  Roland  was  never 
drawn  or  painted  except  in  profile  is  the  only  objection  to 
the  authenticity  of  this  portrait.  M.  Sensier  believed  that 
several  copies  of  it  were  made  by  the  artist  himself,  as  was 
the  custom  before  the  discovery  of  the  daguerreotype,  and 
cited  as  referring  to  this  miniature  a  letter  to  Serven,  the 
minister  of  war,  friend  and  comrade  of  the  Rolands.  Men- 
tioning the  dangers  that  were  closing  around  her,  Madame 
Roland  wrote:  "Consequently  I  am  sending  you  my  por- 
trait, for  one  must  leave  something  of  one's  self  to  one's 
friends.  I  am  glad  to  tell  you  that  after  my  husband,  my 
daughter,  and  another  person,  it  is  unknown  to  the  world, 
and  the  general  run  of  my  friends"  (December  25,  Year  i, 
I1792]).  The  date  is  significant.  This  letter  was  written 
in  those  dark  days  after  the  Rolands  had  protested  against 


346  APPENDIX  I 

the  September  massacres,  opposed  the  violent  measures  of 
the  Mountain,  and  were  "under  the  knife  of  Robespierre 
and  Marat" — no  figurative  expression.  On  the  following 
day,  the  26th  of  December,  the  defense  of  the  King  was  to 
be  heard,  and  an  outbreak  of  popular  fury  was  predicted. 
Desmoulins  and  Marat's  papers  had  perseveringly  calumni- 
ated Madame  Roland,  and  Danton's  proselytes,  the  furies 
of  the  Halles,  had  threatened  her  with  Madame  de  Lamballe's 
fate;  menacing  letters  were  received  every  da}^,  and  she  slept 
with  a  pistol  at  her  pillow.  No  wonder  she  desired  to  leave 
some  intact  image  of  herself  to  her  friends. 

M.  Sensier's  expert  knowledge  backed  by  Vatel's  re- 
searches, too  minute  and  extended  even  to  enumerate  here, 
are  convincing.  This  then  is  the  portrait  sent  to  that 
"other  person,"  that  lover  so  long  unknown,  whose  identity 
puzzled  friends  and  enemies  alike,  and  who  was  called  in 
turn  Serven,  Barbaroux,  and  Bancal,  until  another  discovery 
of  Messieurs  Vatel  and  Sensier  named  Buzot  as  Madame 
Roland's  knight. 

What  strong  things  this  fragile  relic  of  a  stern  tragedy 
has  outlasted !  Did  Buzot  wear  it  on  his  breast  in  those 
spring  days  when  the  Gironde  was  at  death-grips  with  the 
Mountain  ?  Did  he  carry  it  as  a  talisman  when  he  faced 
the  threats  and  curses  of  the  shrieking  tribunes,  when  he 
pressed  to  his  perilous  place  in  the  Convention  through  a 
murderous  crowd  ?  Did  the  sight,  the  feel  of  it  spur  on  his 
crusade  against  the  mob  tyranny  of  Paris  ?  Was  it  an  un- 
seen auditor  of  his  call  to  arms  in  the  terrorized  provinces  ? 
When  shocked  and  saddened  he  left  the  council  of  war  after 
Wimpfen,  the  Gironde's  general,  had  proposed  an  alliance 
with  the  royalists,  an  acceptance  of  English  overtures,  did  the 
image  of  "the  woman  who  incarnated  the  Republic"  revive 
the  courage  of  this  vanquished  republican  ? 

The  painted  bit  of  glass  journeyed  with  him  in  that  la- 
mentable "retreat  of  the  eleven"  through  a  craven  France 
shuddering  in  the  shadow  of  the  guillotine.  During  long, 
miserable  months  of  hiding  in  forest  and  quarry,  in  freezing 
caves  and  stifling  garrets,  the  frail  fetich  lay  on  Buzot's 
breaking  heart,  and  he  parted  from  it  only  when  he  left  his 
last  refuge,  resolved  to  die  a  free  man. 

Locked  in  a  leaden  casket  with  the  fugitive's  Memoirs 


APPENDIX  I  347 

and  letters,  the  miniature  was  hastily  hidden  by  the  Giron- 
din's  hostess  just  before  she  was  carried  off  to  the  guillotine. 
Unearthed  by  the  agents  of  the  Committee  of  PubHc  Safety, 
it  was  despatched  first  to  Bordeaux,  then  on  to  Paris,  where 
it  was  handed  over  to  Robespierre,  after  some  less  incorrupt- 
ible patriot  had  pried  out  the  jewels  from  the  frame. 

Did  it  say  anything  to  Robespierre,  this  image  of  the 
woman  who  had  not  so  long  before  generously  offered  him  a 
refuge  when  he  was  "suspect"  ?  Did  he  remember  a  certain 
2 1  St  of  June  as  he  glanced  at  the  portrait.?  The  year  was 
1791;  the  King  was  in  flight.  Paris  was  wild  with  rage  and 
suspicion.  Robespierre,  white  and  terror-stricken,  sat  gnaw- 
ing his  nails  at  Petion's,  muttering  that  a  Saint  Bartholomew 
of  patriots  had  been  planned,  and  that  they  had  not  twenty- 
four  hours  to  live.  Did  he  recall  the  radiant  sybil  who  smiled 
at  his  fears  and  predicted  the  flowering  of  a  republic  on  the 
ruins  of  royalty  ?  Who  knows  ?  Even  modem  research  has 
not  yet  explored  that  strange,  monstrous  mind. 

After  Thermidor,  Courtois,  Robespierre's  jackal,  hid  this 
with  other  relics.  He  disinterred  them  now  and  then,  and 
tossed  a  few  scraps  to  those  he  feared  or  favored.  From  hand 
to  hand  the  portrait  and  the  papers  have  been  passed  on  to 
our  own  generation,  and  have  found  a  permanent  resting- 
place  in  the  Archives. 

There  the  picture  lies  to-day,  a  fragment  of  sweet  color, 
beside  the  tattered,  faded  manuscripts  about  it,  like  a  flower 
fallen  among  debris,  the  pathetic,  frayed  records  of  the  ideals 
and  disillusions  of  honorable  and  devoted  men  whose  crime 
was  a  belief  in  the  honor  and  disinterestedness  of  their  fellow 
men.  Could  a  worthier  place  be  found  for  the  portrait  of 
"the  soul  of  the  Gironde"  ? 


APPENDIX   II 
MADAME  ROLAND'S  STYLE 

Force  and  frankness  of  thought — even  her  enemies  have 
never  doubted  her  sincerity — directness  of  attack,  the  habit- 
ual use  of  the  exact  word,  sincerity  of  expression,  and  a  firm- 
ness of  touch  which  can  thrust  and  pierce  as  well  as  indicate. 
This  is  no  manicured  style.  Intensity  of  emotion  might  be 
expected  from  a  woman  writing  with  death  at  her  door, 
and  feeling,  long  concentrated  and  dwelt  upon,  which  bursts 
forth  in  bitter  irony,  in  passionate  apostrophe,  and  in  furious 
invective.  The  art  of  literary  expression  never  had  more 
illustrious  interpreters  than  in  her  time,  and  clarity,  move- 
ment, vivacity,  we  expect  in  a  writer  of  her  age  and  country. 
But  impassioned  conviction,  abundance,  and  amplitude  are 
rarer  gifts,  and  these  qualities  are  hers.  In  spite  of  our 
prejudices,  our  doubts,  our  objections,  this  vehement,  force- 
ful narrative*  seizes  attention  and  completely  envelops  us  in 
its  atmosphere.  While  reading  it  we  are  Girondins,  be  we 
what  we  may  when  we  have  cast  off  its  compelling  charm,  for 
our  spirit  is  held  captive  in  this  close  net  of  words. 

We  cannot  expect  impartiality  in  a  woman  who  pleads 
for  husband,  lover,  and  friends,  literally  under  the  knife. 
The  enemies  of  her  cause  are  her  personal  foes;  with  each 
assault  upon  it  she  withers  and  bleeds.  Bitter  raillery, 
sustained  invective,  blighting  sarcasm,  all  the  resources  of 
the  rhetorician  directed  by  a  just  indignation,  are  employed 
to  scathe  and  overwhelm  the  men  who  a  few  short  months 
ago  were  guests  and  house  friends,  and  asked  her  hospitality, 
sought  her  counsels,  and  in  some  instances  owed  their  posi- 
tion to  her  influence  or  recommendation.  In  a  frank  and 
ardent  nature  like  Madame  Roland's  the  double-dealing  of 
Danton,  the  hypocrisy  of  Pache,  the  cowardice  of  Fabre,  the 
weakness  of  Lanthenas  are  as  incomprehensible  as  they  are  un- 

*The  Memoirs. — Ed. 
348 


APPENDIX  II  349 

pardonable.  She  branded  these  false  friends  with  an  inerrant 
hand.  Her  perspicacity  enabled  her  to  strike  at  the  weak 
link  in  each  mail-coat.  At  bay,  alone,  hopeless,  she  does  not 
lose  her  sangfroid,  and  each  thrust  is  calculated,  each  blow 
is  deftly  aimed.  Ire  serves  but  to  fuse  her  periods,  to  incite 
her  to  greater  swiftness  and  a  more  direct  attack.  The  no- 
ble serenity  with  which  she  met  the  calumnies  that  assailed 
her  personally  broke  down  when  her  friends  were  touched. 
The  arrest  of  the  twenty-two  Girondists  affected  her  so  pro- 
foundly that  the  concierge  resolved  never  to  tell  her  any  more 
political  news.  She  fainted  for  the  first  time  during  her  five 
months  in  prison  when  she  was  told  of  the  condemnation  of 
the  Girondists.  She  raged  when  she  learned  of  the  moral 
cowardice  of  the  deputies  of  her  own  party  who  dared  not 
refuse  to  march  in  Marat's  funeral  procession  (July  i6). 
Seldom  has  such  exaltation  of  feeling,  such  a  tumultuous 
temperament,  been  united  with  such  self-command  and 
such  cool  and  deliberate  choice  of  means  of  expression. 
When  she  takes  up  her  pen,  anger  is  subdued  to  righteous 
wrath,  the  revolt  of  a  pure  conscience.  The  soundness  of 
the  phrase,  of  the  significant  word,  of  the  elegance  and  ap- 
propriateness of  the  expression,  curbs  the  violence  of  emo- 
tion and  translates  it  into  lofty  invective. 

The  declamatory  tone  which  repels  us  to-day  is  softened 
by  playfulness  and  wit.  Only  enough  of  the  Cornelian 
emphasis  is  retained  to  fashion  her  thought  in  that  virile 
form  which  was  personal  to  her,  and  which  she  owed  as  much 
to  the  temper  of  her  mind  as  to  the  high  culture  which  that 
mind  had  received  since  her  childhood.  Madame  Roland 
wrote  as  she  spoke,  if  we  can  trust  her  contemporaries. 


APPENDIX   III 
MADAME  ROLAND'S  VERACITY 

Does  this  vivacity  of  imagination  deflect  her  judgment  of 
political  events  ?  Does  it  invalidate  her  general  statements 
of  fact  ?  The  ablest  historian  of  the  Gironde  has  answered 
this  crucial  question.  Vatel's  opinion  is  decisive.  As  an 
eminent  lawyer  he  possessed  the  judicial  habit  of  thought, 
and  was  familiar  with  the  nature  of  evidence.  He  brought 
the  methods  of  legal  procedure  to  his  historical  studies.  He 
visited  the  scenes  of  the  events  he  described,  and  questioned 
the  survivors  of  the  Revolution.  He  made  a  valuable  col- 
lection of  revolutionary  relics,  and  his  discoveries  in  the 
National  Archives  have  been  profitable  to  every  recent  writer 
on  the  eighteenth  century.  Of  Madame  Roland's  Memoirs, 
which  he  often  cites,  he  wrote:  "Note  the  perfect  exactness 
of  the  details  given  by  Madame  Roland.  Her  assertions  have 
been  contested  by  historians,  who  wrote  on  the  Revolution 
in  a  spirit  hostile  to  her  party.  I  affirm  on  the  contrary 
that  every  time  I  have  had  occasion  to  verify  the  facts  ad- 
vanced by  Madame  Roland,  I  have  discovered  material 
proofs  in  support  of  what  she  stated.  I  shall  have  the  op- 
portunity to  return  to  this  subject  in  the  course  of  this 
publication,  and  I  even  propose  to  write  a  separate  work 
under  the  title  of  The  Veracity  of  Madame  Roland." 

That  party  spirit  tinged  her  narrative  is  as  manifest  as  it 
was  inevitable  that  it  should  be;  she  is  answering  accusa- 
tions, defending  her  husband,  and  justifying  her  own  con- 
duct. She  is  testifying  to  the  rectitude  of  friends  and  co- 
workers. Hence  we  must  not  expect  from  her  even-handed 
justice  to  enemies  or  impartial  views  of  her  executioners. 
The  opinion  of  a  soldier  in  the  forefront  of  the  battle  is 
rarely  unbiassed.  Even  those  who  write  of  the  Revolution 
to-day  still  hear  the  roar  of  conflict,  and  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously, through  temperament  or  tradition,  are  partisans  of 
the  Mountain  or  the  Gironde  or  the  Throne. 

3S0 


APPENDIX  III  351 

If  she  was  too  ready  to  believe  evil  of  her  political  adver- 
saries, she  shared  this  weakness  with  the  noblest  characters 
of  her  time,  for  never  was  calumny  more  rife.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  she  believed  every  word  that  she  wrote,  and  there 
is  also  no  doubt  that  the  modern  writers,  who  accuse  her  of 
untruthfulness,  misquote  or  misread  her  words.  Messrs. 
Belloc,  Bax,  Stephens  bring  grave  charges  against  her 
trustworthiness,  resting  their  case  on  strangely  confused 
readings  of  passages  from  the  Memoirs.  As  such  accusa- 
tions, if  proven,  would  greatly  depreciate  the  value  of  these 
passages,  I  may  be  pardoned  for  considering  these  said  ac- 
cusations in  detail,  not  only  to  vindicate  the  veracity  of 
Madame  Roland  but  to  demonstrate  how  partisan  is  the 
attitude  of  those  who  now  accuse  her  of  wilful  misrepre- 
sentation. 

Mr.  Belloc  (Robespierre,  p.  142)  writes:  "Madame  Roland, 
who  had  been  present  at  this  meeting  [at  the  Jacobin  Club 
after  the  massacre  of  the  Champ  de  Mars],  bethought  her- 
self of  Robespierre,  as  she  sat  at  home  surrounded  by  the 
growing  terrors  of  the  crisis.  She  went,  or  says  she  went, 
up  into  the  Rue  Saintonge  in  the  Marais  to  offer  him  asylum 
in  her  house;  but  she  tells  us  that  when  she  got  to  his  door, 
somewhat  before  midnight,  he  had  not  yet  returned.  In 
this  she  is  truthful,  though  she  is  wrong  in  ascribing  terror 
to  a  man  who  was  as  ignorant  of  panic  as  of  valor."  In 
a  note  Mr.  Belloc  adds:  "A  little  inconsistently,  since  she 
also  says  in  her  'Memoirs'  that,  at  the  same  hour,  she  was 
refusing  shelter  to  Robespierre's  early  friend  Madame  Robert, 
on  the  plea  that  her  house  was  too  well  known  by  Lafayette's 
faction." 

Thus  Mr.  Belloc,  following  M.  Hamel,  who  in  his  older 
Histoire  de  Robespierre  doubts  Madame  Roland's  statement 
because  she  herself  writes  in  another  place  that  on  the  17th  of 
July  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  when  she  reached  home  after 
the  massacre,  she  found  M.  and  Mme.  Robert  there.  Now 
M.  Hamel  would  certainly  have  convicted  Madame  Roland  of 
falsehood  if  she  had  said  that  she  went  to  Robespierre's  house 
on  the  night  of  the  17th  of  July;  she  gives  no  date,  however, 
but  her  narrative  shows  that  it  was  not  on  the  ijih,  but  some 
days  later,  since  threats  against  Robespierre  and  the  re- 
port of  a  plot  against  him  were  what  induced  her  to  offer 


352  APPENDIX  III 

him  a  hiding-place.  She  could  not  have  heard  all  these 
rumors  the  very  evening  of  the  massacre.  What  she  wrote 
of  Robespierre  was  this:  "Nous  nous  inquietames  veritable- 
ment  sur  son  compte,  Roland  et  moi;  nous  nous  fimes  con- 
duire  chez  lui,  au  fond  du  Marais  a  onze  du  soir  pour  lui 
ofFrir  un  asile;  mais  il  avait  deja  quitte  son  domicile."  ["We 
were  really  anxious  about  him,  Roland  and  I;  we  went  to 
his  house,  in  the  heart  of  the  Marais  at  eleven  in  the  evening 
to  offer  him  a  refuge;  but  he  had  already  left  his  domicile."] 
(Memoirs,  vol.  I,  pp.  209-210.)  Madame  Roland  not  only  did 
not  date  her  journey  to  Robespierre's  house  on  the  17th,  she 
did  not  refuse  "to  receive  Madame  Robert,  Robespierre's  early 
friend,"  at  that  hour  on  that  date  "on  the  plea  that  her  house 
was  too  well  known  by  Lafayette's  faction."  The  Memoirs 
read:  "Le  17  juillet,  sortantdes  Jacobins  ouj'avais  etetemoin 
des  agitations  que  causerent  les  tristes  evenements  du  Champ 
de  Mars,  je  trouvai,  en  rentrant  chez  moi,  a  onze  heures  du 
soir,  M.  et  Mme.  Robert.  *Nous  venons,'  me  dit  la  femme 
avec  I'air  de  confiance  d'une  ancienne  amie,  *vous  demander 
un  asile;  il  ne  faut  pas  vous  avoir  beaucoup  vue  pour  croire 
a  la  franchise  de  votre  caractere  et  de  votre  patriotisme: 
mon  mari  redigeait  la  petition  sur  I'autel  de  la  patrie;  j'etais 
a  ses  cotes;  nous  echappons  a  la  boucherie,  sans  oser  nous 
retirer  ni  chez  nous,  ni  chez  des  amis  connus  oii  Ton  pourrait 
nous  venir  chercher.'  *  Je  vous  sais  bon  gre,'  lui  repliquai-je, 
*d'avoir  songe  a  moi  dans  une  aussi  triste  circonstance,  et 
je  m'honore  d'accueillir  les  persecutes;  mais  vous  serez  mal 
caches  ici  (j'etais  a  I'hotel  Britannique,  rue  Guenegaud); 
cette  maison  est  frequentee,  et  I'hote  est  fort  partisan  de 
Lafayette.'  'II  n'est  question  que  de  cette  nuit,  demain 
nous  aviserons  a  notre  retraite.'  Je  fis  dire  a  la  maitresse  de 
I'hotel  qu'une  femme  de  mes  parentes  arrivant  a  Paris,  dans 
ce  moment  de  tumulte,  avait  laisse  ses  bagages  a  la  diligence 
et  passerait  la  nuit  avec  moi;  que  je  la  priais  de  faire  dresser 
deux  lits  de  camp  dans  mon  appartement.  lis  furent  dis- 
poses dans  un  salon  oli  se  tinrent  les  hommes,  et  Mme. 
Robert  coucha  dans  de  lit  de  mon  mari  aupres  du  mien  dans 
ma  chambre." 

["On  the  17th  of  July,  after  leaving  the  Jacobin  Club, 
where  I  had  been  a  witness  of  the  agitation  caused  by  the 
unfortunate  occurrences  of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  I  returned 


APPENDIX  III  353 

to  my  house  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  and  found  M.  and 
Mme.  Robert  there,  'We  have  come,'  said  the  wife  with 
the  confident  air  of  a  former  friend,  'to  ask  you  for  shelter; 
it  is  not  necessary  to  have  seen  you  many  times  to  believe 
in  the  frankness  of  your  character  and  your  patriotism. 
My  husband  was  writing  the  petition  on  the  altar  of  the 
Fatherland.  I  was  at  his  side.  We  escaped  from  the 
butchery  without  daring  to  go  either  to  our  own  house  or  to 
those  of  people  who  are  known  to  be  our  friends,  and  where 
we  may  be  looked  for.'  'I  am  much  pleased,'  I  replied, 
'that  you  should  have  thought  of  me  in  such  trying  circum- 
stances, and  I  honor  myself  by  welcoming  the  persecuted, 
but  you  will  be  poorly  hidden  here  (I  was  at  the  Hotel 
Britannique,  Rue  Guenegaud);  the  house  is  much  frequented, 
and  the  landlord  is  a  strong  partisan  of  Lafayette.'  'It  is 
only  for  to-night;  to-morrow  we  shall  think  about  our  re- 
treat.' I  had  the  landlady  told  that  a  woman,  one  of  my 
relatives,  who  had  just  arrived  in  Paris  during  the  distur- 
bance, had  left  her  baggage  in  the  diligence,  and  would  spend 
the  night  with  me,  and  that  I  begged  her  to  have  two  camp 
beds  set  up  in  my  apartment.  They  were  put  into  a  salon 
where  the  men  lodged,  and  Madame  Robert  slept  in  my 
husband's  bed  beside  mine  in  my  room."]  (Memoirs,  vol.  I, 
pp.  170,  171.) 

The  Roberts  not  only  spent  the  night  with  the  Rolands, 
they  breakfasted  and  dined  with  them  the  following  day. 
Somuch  for  Madame  Roland's  refusal  to  shelter  Robespierre's 
friend. 

In  Danton,  Mr.  Belloc,  following  Michelet,  holds  Madame 
Roland  responsible  for  the  Gironde's  rejection  of  Danton's 
overtures.  Michelet's  inference  is  drawn  only  from  a  pas- 
sage in  the  Memoirs.  As  a  noteworthy  instance  of  how  docu- 
ments can  be  misinterpreted,  and  of  the  peril  of  using  authori- 
ties at  second  hand  without  consulting  the  originals,  I  cite 
the  text  and  the  subsequent  variations  on  its  simple  theme. 

Dumouriez  after  the  victory  of  Valmy  returned  to  Paris. 
He  dined  with  the  Rolands,  and  after  dinner  proposed  going 
to  the  opera.  It  was  the  custom  then,  as  indeed  it  is  now,  for 
successful  generals  to  receive  ovations  in  the  theatres  after 
a  campaign;  to  accompany  Dumouriez  would  have  been  to 


354  APPENDIX  III 

court  conspicuousness  and,  at  a  moment  when  the  Gironde 
was  in  power,  to  share  a  portion  of  his  honors;  therefore 
Madame  Roland  prudently  avoided  appearing  in  his  company. 
She  writes: 

"II  [Dumouriez]  se  proposait  d'aller  apres  diner  a  I'Opera; 
c'etait  encore  un  reste  de  I'ancienne  folie  des  generaux  d'aller 
se  montrer  au  spectacle  et  chercher  des  couronnes  de  theatre, 
lorsqu'ils  avaient  remporte  quelque  avantage, 

*'Une  personne  me  demanda  si  je  ne  comptais  point  y  aller; 
j'evitai  de  repondre,  parce  qu'il  ne  convenait  ni  a  mon  carac- 
tere  ni  a  mes  moeurs  d'y  paraitre  avec  Dumouriez.  Mais 
apres  que  la  compagnie  fut  partie,  je  proposai  a  Vergniaud 
de  m'y  accompagner  dans  ma  loge  avec  ma  fille.  Nous 
nous  y  rendimes.  L'ouvreuse  de  loges,  etonnee,  me  dit  que 
la  loge  du  ministre  etait  occupee.  *Cela  n'est  pas  possible,' 
lui  dis-je.  On  n'y  entrait  que  sur  des  billets  signes  de  lui, 
et  je  n'en  avais  donne  a  personne.  'Mais  c'est  le| ministre 
qui  a  voulu  entrer.' — 'Non,  ce  n'est  pas  lui;  ouvrez-moi, 
je  verrai  qui  c'est.'  Trois  ou  quatre  sans-culottes,  en  forme 
de  spadassins,  etaient  a  la  porte.  *0n  n'ouvre  pas,'  s'ecrie- 
rent-ils,  'le  ministre  est  la.' — 'Je  ne  puis  me  dispenser 
d'ouvrir,'  repond  la  femme  qui  dans  I'instant  ouvre  effective- 
ment  la  porte.  J'aper^ois  la  grosse  figure  de  Danton,  celle 
de  Fabre  et  trois  ou  quatre  femmes  de  mauvaise  tournure. 
Le  spectacle  etait  commence;  ils  fixaient  le  theatre;  Danton 
s'inclinait  sur  la  loge  voisine  pour  causer  avec  Dumouriez 
que  je  reconnus,  le  tout  d'un  clin  d'oeil,  sans  que  personne 
de  la  loge  m'eut  vue.  Je  me  retirai  subitement,  en  poussant 
la  porte.  'Veritablement,'  dis-je  a  l'ouvreuse,  'c'est  un 
ci-devant  ministre  de  la  justice,  a  qui  j'aime  mieux  laisser 
le  fruit  d'une  impertinence  que  de  me  compromettre  avec 
lui;  je  n'ai  que  faire  ici.'  Et  je  me  retirai,  jugeant  au  reste 
que  la  sottise  de  Danton  me  sauvait  de  I'inconvenient,  que 
j'avais  voulu  eviter,  de  paraitre  avec  Dumouriez,  puisqu'il 
se  serait  trouve  si  pres  de  moi."] 

["Some  one  asked  me  if  I  did  not  intend  to  go.  I  avoided 
answering  because  it  hardly  suited  my  character  or  my 
conduct  {mceurs)  to  appear  there  with  Dumouriez.  But 
after  the  company  had  gone  I  asked  Vergniaud  to  go  with 
me  to  my  box,  with  my  daughter.  We  went.  The  box- 
opener,  in  some  surprise,  told  me  the  minister's  box  was 


APPENDIX  III  355 

occupied.  'That  is  not  possible/  I  said  to  her.  No  one 
entered  it  without  a  note  signed  by  him,  and  I  had  not  given 
one  to  anybody.  'But  it  was  the  minister  who  wished  to 
go  in.'  'No,  it  was  not  he;  open  the  door.  I  will  see  who 
it  is.'  Three  or  four  sansculottes  of  cut-throat  aspect  were 
at  the  door.  'Don't  open,'  they  said,  'the  minister  is 
there.'  *I  can't  help  opening,'  said  the  woman,  who  in  a 
moment  actually  opened  the  door.  I  saw  Danton's  broad 
visage,  that  of  Fabre,  and  three  or  Jour  disreputable-looking 
women.  The  performance  had  begun;  they  were  looking 
at  the  stage.  Danton  leaned  towards  the  adjoining  box  to 
talk  with  Dumouriez,  whom  I  recognized;  all  this  at  a  glance 
without  any  one  in  the  box  having  seen  me.  I  went  out 
quickly,  pushing  the  door  to.  'Truly,'  I  said  to  the  box- 
opener,  'it  is  a  former  minister  of  justice  to  whom  I  would 
rather  leave  the  advantage  of  his  impertinence  than  compro- 
mise myself  with  him;  I  have  nothing  to  do  here,'  and  I  re- 
tired, thinking,  however,  that  the  impertinence  of  Danton 
had  spared  me  the  impropriety,  which  I  wished  to  avoid, 
of  appearing  with  Dumouriez,  since  he  would  have  been  so 
near  me."]     (Memoirs,  vol.  I,  pp.  251-2.) 

Nothing  could  be  more  simply  and  clearly  told  than  this 
incident,  and  yet  Michelet  whimsically  interpreted  it  thus: 
"Danton  connaissait  tres  bien  le  caractere  difficile  des 
Girondins,  leur  amour-propre  inquiet,  la  severite  chagrine 
de  Roland,  la  susceptibilite  de  Madame  Roland,  le  vertueux 
et  delicat  orgueil  qu'elle  pla^ait  sur  son  mari,  ne  pardonnant 
pas  a  Danton  le  mot  brutal  qu'il  avait  dit  pour  rendre 
Roland  ridicule.  Danton,  dans  sa  bonhommie  audacieuse, 
voulut,  sans  negociation  ni  explication,  briser  tout  d'abord 
la  glace.  Menant  Dumouriez  au  theatre,  il  entra  non  dans 
la  meme  loge,  mais  dans  celle  d'a  cote,  d'oii  il  parlait  au 
general.  Cette  loge  etait  celle  meme  du  ministre  de  I'inte- 
rieur,  de  Roland.  Danton,  comma  ancien  collegue,  s'y 
etablit  familierement  avec  deux  femmes,  tres  probablement 
sa  mere  et  sa  femme  (qu'il  aimait  de  passion).  Si  nous  ne 
nous  trompons  dans  cette  conjecture,  une  telle  demarche, 
faite  en  famille,  etait  un  gage  de  paix.  On  savait  que  per- 
sonne  n'avait  ete  plus  cruellement  atteint  que  Madame 
Danton  par  les  fatales  journees  de  Septembre;  elle  devint 
malade  et  mourut  bientot. 


3S6  APPENDIX  III 

"II  y  avait  a  parier  que  les  dames  se  rapprocheraient; 
Madame  Roland,  si  elle  fut  entree  dans  la  loge,  se  fut  liee 
malgre  elle,  et  elle  eut  ete  touchee.  Au  reste,  que  les  Roland 
prissent  bien  ou  mal  la  chose,  elle  pouvait  avoir  politiquement 
d'admirables  resultats.  Tous  les  journaux  allaient  dire 
qu'on  avait  vu,  reunies  dans  une  loge  de  six  pieds  cartes, 
la  Montague  et  la  Gironde,  qu'il  n'y  avait  plus  de  partis, 
que  toute  discorde  expirait.  Cette  seule  apparence  d'union 
aurait  mieux  servi  la  France  que  le  gain  d'une  bataille. 

"  Madame  Roland  vint,  en  efFet,  et  elle  fut  indisposee  tout 
d'abord;  on  la  retint  a  la  porte,  lui  disant  que  la  loge  etait 
occupee;  elle  se  la  fit  ouvrir,  et  vit  Danton  a  la  place  qu'elle 
eut  prise,  pres  du  heros  de  la  fete.  Elle  aimait  peu  Dumou- 
riez,  mais  elle  ne  voulait  pas  moins,  tout  porte  a  le  croire,  le 
favoriser  ce  soir-la  de  son  gracieux  voisinage,  le  couronner 
de  cette  marque  solennelle  d'une  sympathie  austere;  elle 
seule  se  croyait  digne  de  le  remercier  ainsi  tacitement  au 
nom  de  la  France. 

"Elle  avait  pris  pour  venir  le  bras  de  Vergniaud,  voulant 
sieger  entre  le  grand  orateur  et  le  general,  apparaissant  comme 
alliance  du  genie  et  de  la  victoire,  et  prenant  hardiment  sa 
part  dans  celle-ci  pour  le  parti  girondin.  Danton  derangea 
tout  cela.  Madame  Roland  ne  se  soucia  pas  de  I'avoir  pres 
d'elle,  entre  elle  et  Dumouriez.  En  quoi  elle  fut  injuste.  .  .  . 
Quoi  qu'il  en  soit,  Madame  Roland  prit  pour  pretexte  les  fem- 
mes.  Elle  vit,  dit-elle,  'deux  femmes  de  mauvaise  tournure.' 
Et  sans  examiner  si,  malgre  cette  tournure,  elles  n'etaient 
point  respectables,  elle  referma  la  loge,  sans  entrer,  et  se 
retira."  ["  Danton  understood  perfectly  the  exacting  temper 
of  the  Girondins,  their  uneasy  self-love,  the  fretful  severity  of 
Roland,  the  susceptibility  of  Madame  Roland,  the  estimable 
and  delicate  pride  she  felt  for  her  husband,  which  could  not 
forgive  Danton  the  brutal  speech  he  had  made  to  render 
Roland  ridiculous.  Danton,  with  his  audacious  good  humor , 
desired,  without  negotiation  or  explanation,  to  break  the  ice  at 
once.  Taking  Dumouriez  to  the  theatre,  he  went  into,  not 
the  same  box,  but  the  one  beside  it,  from  which  he  talked 
with  the  general.  This  box  was  that  of  the  minister  of  the 
interior,  of  Roland.  Danton,  as  an  old  colleague,  established 
himself  in  it  familiarly  with  two  women,  very  probably  his 
mother  and  wife,  whom  he  passionately  loved.     If  we  are  not 


APPENDIX   III  357 

deceived  in  this  conjecture  such  a  step,  taken  en  families  was  a 
pledge  of  peace.  It  was  known  that  no  one  had  been  more 
cruelly  affected  than  Madame  Danton  by  the  fatal  days  of 
September;  she  became  ill,  and  died  soon  afterwards.  One 
might  have  wagered  that  the  ladies  would  have  become 
acquainted;  Madame  Roland,  if  she  had  entered  the  box, 
would  have  felt  bound  in  spite  of  herself,  and  would  have 
been  touched.  Besides,  whether  the  Rolands  took  the 
thing  well  or  ill,  it  might  have  admirable  results.  All  the 
papers  would  say  that  they  had  seen  the  Mountain  and  the 
Gironde  reunited  in  a  box  six  feet  square,  that  there  were 
no  more  parties,  and  all  discord  had  vanished.  The  mere 
semblance  of  union  would  have  served  France  better  than  a 
battle  won. 

"Madame  Roland  did  come,  and  was  averse  from  the  first. 
They  kept  her  at  the  door,  saying  the  box  was  occupied; 
she  had  it  opened  and  saw  Danton  in  the  place  she  would 
have  taken,  near  the  hero  of  the  fete.  She  had  little  love 
for  Dumouriez,  but  everything  disposes  one  to  believe  that  in 
spite  of  that  she  wished  to  favor  him  that  evening  with  a 
gracious  neighborliness,  and  crown  him  with  this  formal 
token  of  an  austere  sympathy.  She  alone  believed  herself 
worthy  thus  to  thank  him  tacitly  in  the  name  of  France. 

"She  had  taken  the  arm  of  Vergniaud  to  come,  desiring 
to  sit  between  the  great  orator  and  the  general,  appearing  as  the 
alliance  of  genius  and  victory,  boldly  taking  her  share  in  it 
for  the  Girondin  party.  Danton  upset  all  that.  Madame 
Roland  did  not  care  to  have  him  near  her,  between  her  and 
Dumouriez.  In  which  she  was  unjust.  .  .  .  However  that 
may  be,  Madame  Roland  made  the  women  a  pretext.  She 
saw,  she  said,  Uzvo  disreputable-looking  zvomen,'  and  without 
examining  whether  in  spite  of  their  appearance  they  were  not 
respectable,  she  shut  the  box  without  entering  it  and  re- 
tired."] 

Michelet's  view  of  Madame  Roland's  motives  in  this  con- 
tingency is  decidedly  deflected,  but  Mr.  Belloc's  version  is 
still  more  awry:  "Michelet  gives  us  two  pictures.  ...  In 
the  first  Dumouriez  and  Danton  sat  i?i  the  same  box  at  the 
theatre,  and  Vergniaud  was  coming  in  with  the  soul  of  the 
Girondins.  The  door  opened  and  promised  this  spectacle: 
Danton  and  the  general  and  the  orator  of  the  pure  Republi- 


358  APPENDIX  III 

cans,  and  the  woman  most  identified  with  the  Right.  It 
would  have  been  such  a  picture  for  all  the  people  there  as 
Danton  would  have  prayed  or  paid  for.  The  door  was  ajar, 
and  as  she  came  near,  Madame  Roland  saw  Danton  sitting  in 
the  box;  she  -put  out  her  hand  from  Fergniaud's  arm  and  shut 
the  door.  There  is  in  her  Memoirs  a  kind  of  apology  ^des 
femmes  de  viauvaise  tournure' — utter  nonsense;  it  was  Ro- 
land's box,  and  his  wife  was  expected.  Danton  and  Du- 
mouriez  were  not  of  the  gutter.  No,  it  was  the  narrow,  femi- 
nine hatred,  so  closely  allied  to  her  intense  devotion,  that 
made  Madame  Roland  thrust  Danton  at  arm's  length." 
(Danton,  pp.  195-6.) 

The  story  told  by  Madame  Roland  as  an  example  of  how 
Danton  and  Fabre  attached  themselves  to  Dumouriez  after 
Valmy,  and  tried  to  share  the  general's  popularity,  has 
grown  into  an  incident  of  tragic  significance.  The  Gironde, 
personified  by  Madame  Roland,  rejects  an  alliance  with  the 
Mountain !  The  hand  that  closed  an  opera-box  door  dealt 
a  death-blow  to  the  Girondins !  Seen  through  the  mists  of 
"psychical"  interpretation  Madame  Roland  looks  like  a  kind 
of  Thais  firing  another  Troy.  An  utterly  commonplace 
event  thus  distorted  by  excess  of  imagination  looms  gigantic. 
Michelet's  already  heightened  picture  rises  in  key  under  Mr. 
Belloc's  touch.  Dumouriez  and  Danton  are  now  sitting  in 
the  same  box.  This  is  a  curious  misstatement  of  Danton's 
biographer,  for  in  his  defense  before  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal  Danton  protested  that  he  had  sat  in  the  theatre- 
box  next  to  that  of  Dumouriez,  not  in  one  with  the  treacher- 
ous soldier.  Mr.  Belloc's  memory  is  at  least  impartially 
unreliable.  Dumouriez  and  Danton  then  are  expecting 
MadamelRoland  with  Vergniaud;  they  have  therefore  left  the 
door  ajar.  As  for  the  "three  or  four  disreputable-looking 
women"  of  the  Memoirs — a  stroke  of  Mr.  Belloc's  pen 
and  they  vanish  into  nothingness.  Under  Michelet's  magic 
they  had  merely  shrunk  to  two,  but  by  being  transformed 
into  an  adored  wife  and  an  aged  mother,  they  had  gained  in 
quality  what  they  lost  in  quantity.  Mr.  Belloc,  however, 
will  have  none  of  them,  and  by  his  suppression  of  them 
renders  Madame  Roland's  conduct  inexplicable.  True,  he 
substitutes  his  own  arbitrary  interpretation — a  sudden  fit  of 
"narrow  feminine  hatred";  her  own  explanation  is  "utter 


APPENDIX  III  359 

nonsense."  "Danton  and  Dumouriez  were  not  of  the  gut- 
ter." Danton's  language  was  much  of  the  time,  and  it  was 
from  his  own  remarks  that  his  contemporaries  formed  their 
poor  opinion  of  his  mosurs,  while  Dumouriez  was  a  notoriously 
loose  liver.  That  Madame  Roland,  unaccompanied  by  her 
husband,  should  hesitate  to  appear  in  public  with  such  men 
and  their  doubtful-looking  companions,  and  should  quietly 
retire  before  they  had  seen  her,  seems  to  the  unbiassed  the 
easiest  way  of  avoiding  an  awkward  situation.  To  impute  to 
this  unobserved  exit  the  failure  of  the  Mountain  and  the 
Gironde  to  unite  is  to  write  history  as  a  seer,  not  as  an  in- 
vestigator. Michelet,  who  loved  not  Madame  Roland  less 
but  Danton  more,  persuaded  himself  that  this  rather  impu- 
dent invasion  of  the  opera-box  was  intended  as  an  overture 
of  peace.  A  curious  olive-branch  surely,  calculated  to  pro- 
pitiate a  proud  and  polished  woman  whom  he  had  publicly 
attacked  in  the  Convention  some  two  weeks  before !  Far 
from  being  conciliatory,  his  usurpation  of  her  place  was  an 
impertinence  which  Madame  Roland  showed  political  wis- 
dom in  ignoring.  Instead  of  being  a  display  of  temper,  as 
Mr.  Belloc  would  have  us  believe,  her  conduct  was  an  exhi- 
bition of  tact  and  self-control.  The  affair  was  just  what  she 
represents  it:  Danton  desired  to  share  the  laurels  of  Valmy 
with  Dumouriez,  the  Gironde's  general;  he  therefore  fol- 
lowed him  about  from  one  public  place  to  another.  The 
Rolands'  box  was  next  to  that  occupied  by  Dumouriez, 
and  Danton  appropriated  it,  regardless  of  the  rights  and  sus- 
ceptibilities of  its  proprietors.  Even  Danton  could  not  have 
fancied  that  he  would  be  persona  grata  to  those  he  had  so 
recently  affronted.  The  anecdote  is  a  curious  instance  of 
what  party  spirit  can  read  between  the  lines  of  a  document. 
Not  only  is  Mr.  Belloc's  personal  interpretation  of  text 
puzzling  to  an  inquiring  reader,  but  believing,  no  doubt,  that 
consistency  is  the  vice  of  little  minds,  he  further  bewilders 
us  by  his  frequent  and  unexplained  changes  of  opinion,  and 
by  his  optimistic  reliance  on  a  memory  that  may  not  be 
marble  to  receive  but  certainly  proves  wax  to  retain.  While 
pronouncing  Madame  Roland  "truthful  and  enthusiastic"  in 
an  appendix  (Danton,  p.  343),  he  accuses  her  of  mahcious 
falsehood  in  a  note  {ibid.,  pp.  185-6).  It  is  generally  in  notes 
that  Madame  Roland  receives  correction  from  Mr.  Belloc. 


36o  APPENDIX  III 

He  Is  sometimes  lenient  to  her  in  his  text,  but  his  second 
thoughts,  as  represented  by  his  annotations,  are  marked  by 
an  increase  of  severity.  In  large  type  he  is  almost  a  Girondin, 
in  small  type  nearly  a  Terrorist. 

Mr.  Belloc  also  possesses  a  mysterious  touchstone  to  de- 
termine the  historic  value  of  certain  statements  in  the  Mem- 
oirs and  the  worthlessness  of  others.  To  the  student  this 
occult  process  and  the  conclusions  derived  from  it  are  equally 
mystifying.  Take,  for  instance,  two  pages  of  the  Memoirs 
relating  to  Danton's  conduct  during  the  carnage  of  Sep- 
tember. Why  should  we  accept  one  and  doubt  the  other 
with  Mr.  Belloc  ?  What  evidence,  external  or  internal,  is 
there  that  one  is  veracious  and  the  other  a  fabrication .? 
**Je  me  souviens  [writes  Mme.  Roland  of  these  butcheries], 
a  propos  de  ceux-ci,  d'un  fait  assez  precieux.  Grandpre, 
nomme  par  le  ministre  de  ITnterieur  pour  visiter  les  prisons, 
avait  trouve  leurs  tristes  habitants  dans  le  plus  grand  effroi 
dans  la  matinee  du  2  septembre;  il  avait  fait  beaucoup  de 
demarches  pour  faciliter  la  sortie  de  plusieurs  de  ceux-ci 
et  il  avait  reussi  pour  un  assez  bon  nombre;  mais  les  bruits 
qui  s'etaient  repandus  tenaient  ceux  qui  restaient  dans  la 
plus  grande  perplexite.  G.  P.  (Grandpre)  de  retour  a  I'hotel, 
attend  les  ministres  a  la  sortie  du  Conseil;  Danton  parait  le 
premier,  il  I'approche,  lui  parle  de  ce  qu'il  a  vu,  retrace  les 
demarches,  les  requisitions  faites  a  la  force  armee  par  le 
ministre  de  ITnterieur,  le  peu  d'egards  qu'on  semble  y  avoir, 
les  alarmes  des  detenus  et  les  soins  que  lui,  ministre  de  la 
Justice,  devait  prendre  pour  eux.  Danton,  importune  de  la 
representation  malencontreuse,  s'ecrie,  avec  sa  voix  beuglante 
et  un  geste  approprie  a  I'expression:  'Je  me  f —  bien  des 
prisonniers!  Qu'ils  deviennent  ce  qu'ils  pourront!'  Et 
il  passe  son  chemin  avec  humeur.  C'etait  dans  le  second 
antichambre,  en  presence  de  vingt  personnes  qui  fremirent 
d'entendre  un  si  rude  ministre  de  la  Justice."  ["I  remember 
a  rather  noteworthy  incident.  Grandpre,  named  by  the 
Minister  of  the  Interior  to  visit  the  prisons,  had  found  their 
miserable  inmates  in  the  greatest  alarm  on  the  morning  of 
the  2d  of  September.  He  had  already  taken  many  steps  to 
facilitate  the  release  of  many  of  them,  and  he  had  succeeded 
in  many  instances,  but  reports  were  spreading  that  threw 
those  who  remained  into  the  greatest  perplexity.     Grandpre, 


APPENDIX  III  361 

on  his  return  to  the  hotel  (the  ministry),  waited  for  the  min- 
isters to  leave  the  council;  Danton  was  the  first  who  ap- 
peared; he  (Grandpre)  went  to  him,  told  him  what  he  had 
seen,  described  the  steps  he  had  himself  taken,  the  appeals 
for  an  armed  force  made  by  the  Minister  of  the  Interior, 
the  slight  attention  that  had  been  paid  to  them,  the  alarm 
of  the  prisoners,  and  the  care  that  he  (Danton),  Minister  of 
Justice,  owed  them.  Danton,  importuned  by  this  ill-timed 
suggestion,  cried  in  his  bellowing  tone,  and  with  a  gesture 
appropriate  to  the  expression:  'Damn  the  prisoners!  Let 
what  may  befall  them.*  And  he  went  on  his  way  in  a  tem- 
per. This  was  in  the  second  antechamber,  in  the  presence 
of  twenty  people,  who  shuddered  to  hear  so  brutal  a  Minister 
of  Justice."]     (Memoirs,  vol.  I,  pp.  216-217.) 

This  anecdote  Mr.  Belloc  admits  may  be  authentic,  but 
the  following  story,  according  to  him,  is  an  instance,  the 
unique  one  he  cites  by  the  way,  of  "historical  intuition." 
On  the  2d  of  September,  at  five  o'clock,  while  the  prisons 
were  being  surrounded,  two  hundred  men  arrived  at  Ro- 
land's house  and  clamored  for  the  minister  and  for  fire- 
arms. Madame  Roland  succeeded  in  sending  them  away 
quietly  by  assuring  them  there  were  no  arms  in  the  house, 
and  that  they  would  find  Roland  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Marine. 
"Que  faisait  alors  Danton?  Je  ne  I'ai  su  que  plusieurs 
jours  apres,  mais  c'est  bon  a  dire  ici  pour  rapprocher  les 
faits.  II  etait  a  la  Mairie,  dans  le  comite  dit  de  surveil- 
lance d'ou  sortait  I'ordre  des  arrestations  si  multipliees 
depuis  quelques  jours:  il  venait  d'y  embrasser  Marat,  apres 
la  parade  d'une  feinte  brouillerie  de  vingt-quatre  heures. 
II  monte  chez  Petion,  le  prend  en  particulier,  lui  dit  dans  son 
langage  toujours  releve  d'expressions  energiques:  'Savez- 
vous  de  quoi  ils  se  sont  avises  f  Est-ce  qu'ils  n'ont  pas  lance 
un  mandat  d'arret  contre  Roland?' — 'Qui  cela?'  demande 
Petion. — 'Eh!  cet  enrage  comite.  J'ai  pris  le  mandat; 
tenez,  le  voila;  nous  ne  pouvons  laisser  agir  ainsi.  Diable ! 
contre  un  membre  du  Conseil!'  Petion  prend  le  mandat, 
le  lit,  le  lui  rend  en  souriant,  et  dit:  'Laissez  faire,  ce  sera 
d'un  bon  efFet.'  'D'un  bon  efFet!'  replique  Danton,  qui 
examinait  curieusement  le  maire;  'oh!  je  ne  souffrirai  pas 
cela,  je  vais  les  mettre  a  la  raison'  et  le  mandat  ne  fut  pas 
mis  a  execution.     Mais  qui  est-ce  qui  ne  se  dit  pas  que  les 


362  APPENDIX  III 

deux  cents  hommes  devaient  avoir  ete  envoyes  chez  le 
ministre  de  I'lnterieur  par  les  auteurs  du  mandat  ?  Qui 
est-ce  qui  ne  soup9onne  point  que  I'inutilite  de  leur  tentative, 
apportant  du  retard  a  I'execution  du  projet,  put  faire  ba- 
lancer ceux  qui  I'avaient  confu  ?  Qui  est-ce  qui  ne  voit  pas 
dans  la  demarche  de  Dantoh  aupres  du  maire  celle  d'un 
conjure  qui  veut  pressentir  I'efFet  du  coup,  ou  se  faire  hon- 
neur  de  I'avoir  pare  lorsqu'il  se  trouve  manque  d'ailleurs  ou 
rendu  douteux  par  d'involontaires  delais?"  ["What  was 
Danton  doing  in  the  meantime  ?  He  was  at  the  Mairie  (then 
in  the  Cite,  courdu  Palais),  at  the  Committee  of  Surveillance 
whence  came  those  orders  for  arrests  so  numerous  during 
the  last  few  days.  He  had  just  fallen  on  the  neck  of  Marat 
after  a  sham  quarrel  of  twenty-four  hours.  He  went  up- 
stairs to  Petion's  rooms,  took  him  aside,  and  said  to  him  in 
his  peculiar  language,  always  heightened  by  energetic  ex- 
pressions: *Do  you  know  what  they  have  decided  to  do.'' 
If  they  haven't  launched  an  order  for  arresting  Roland!' 
'Who  did  that.'"  asks  Petion.  'Why,  that  mad  committee. 
I  took  the  order;  here  it  is;  we  can't  let  them  act  thus.  The 
devil !  And  against  a  member  of  the  Council  too  !'  Petion 
took  the  order,  read  it,  returned  it  to  him  smiling^  and  said : 
'Let  it  go,  it  will  have  a  good  effect.'  'A  good  effect,'  re- 
plied Danton,  who  was  looking  curiously  at  the  Mayor 
(Petion).  'Oh,  I  shall  not  allow  it.  I  shall  bring  them  to 
reason,'  and  the  order  was  not  executed.  But  who  would 
not  say  to  himself  that  the  two  hundred  men  must  have 
been  sent  to  the  Minister  of  the  Interior  by  the  authors  of 
the  order  ?  Who  would  not  suspect  that  the  failure  of  their 
attempt,  in  retarding  the  execution  of  the  project,  had  made 
those  who  conceived  it  hesitate  ?  Who  would  not  see  in 
Danton's  conduct  with  the  Mayor  that  of  a  confederate  who 
tries  to  foresee  the  effect  of  a  blow,  or  to  claim  the  honor  of 
parrying  it  when  it  has  failed  or  seems  unsuccessful  through 
involuntary  delay.'"']     (Memoirs,  vol.  I,  p.  104.) 

Mr.  Belloc  apparently  had  these  citations  in  mind  when, 
referring  to  Danton's  violent  hatred  and  disgust  for  the 
Royalists,  he  says:  "There  is  something  of  that  deplorable 
temper  in  the  anecdote  which  Madame  Roland  gives  of  him, 
striding  through  the  rooms  on  the  second  day,  and  saying 
'that  the  prisoners  could  save  themselves.'     But  this  anec- 


APPENDIX  III  363 

dote  is  not  history;  it  is  an  accusation,  and  one  made  by  an 
enemy."  To  this  passage  Mr.  Belloc  affixes  the  following 
note : 

"Madame  Roland  had  the  great  gift  of  historical  intui- 
tion, that  is,  she  could  minutely  describe  events  that  never 
took  place.  /  attach  no  kind  of  importance  to  the  -passage 
immediately  preceding.  If  Danton  and  Petion  were  alone,  as 
she  describes  them,  her  picture  is  the  picture  of  a  novelist. 
The  phrase  quoted  above  may  be  authentic;  there  were 
witnesses." 

It  is  unfortunate  for  his  readers  that  Danton's  panegyrist 
has  profited  so  little  by  a  study  of  his  hero's  clear  and  vigorous 
style.  Mr.  Belloc's  utterances  are  often  obscure,  occasion- 
ally cryptic.  Does  he  in  the  paragraph  just  cited  mean 
that  the  story  of  Danton's  reply  to  Grandpre's  plea  may  be 
true,  but  that  the  account  of  the  interview  between  Danton 
and  Petion  is  an  invention  ?  The  context  seems  to  imply 
this,  but  how  incomprehensible  to  any  one  unfamiliar  with 
the  Memoirs  are  these  veiled  and  mysterious  allusions  to 
them.  Mr.  Belloc  never  quotes  Madame  Roland's  own  words; 
he  does  not  cite  the  original  Memoirs,  though  he  sometimes 
borrows  from  them  a  clean-cut  phrase  or  two  to  clarify  his 
own  descriptions.  Does  he  mean  the  Danton-Petion  dia- 
logue when  he  writes  that  he  "attaches  no  importance  to 
the  passage  immediately  preceding"  .?  Preceding  what .?  In 
Madame  Roland's  pages  the  conversation  between  Danton 
and  Petion  does  not  precede  the  anecdote  of  Danton  and 
Grandpre;  on  the  contrary,  it  follows  the  Grandpre  episode. 
Madame  Roland  wrote  both  these  scenes  twice  (fearing  some 
of  her  manuscript  had  been  destroyed),  and  twice  in  the  same 
order  which  Mr.  Belloc  has  inverted,  to  the  bewilderment  of 
his  readers.  Does  he  offer  any  proof  of  his  conviction  that 
"if  Danton  and  Petion  were  alone,  her  picture  is  the  picture 
of  a  novelist"  ?  There  were  witnesses  to  Grandpre's  repulse; 
"therefore  it  may  be  true."  But  both  Petion  and  Danton 
were  living  when  Madame  Roland  was  writing,  and  the 
former  was  an  intimate  friend  of  the  Rolands;  she  adds  that 
she  did  not  know  of  the  projected  arrest  until  some  days 
later,  probably  when  Petion  had  time  to  tell  her  of  it.  Why 
is  it  calumnious  to  write  that  Danton  desired  Roland's 
arrest  on  the  2d  of  September  when  all  the  world  knows  that 


364  APPENDIX  III 

he  attacked  Roland  and  his  wife  in  the  Convention  on  the 
25th  of  the  same  month  ? 

M.  Perroud,  the  latest  and  most  learned  editor  of  the 
Roland  Memoirs,  has  also  written  a  note  on  this  interview. 
It  reads  as  follows:  " Le  Mandat  d* arret  lance  contre  Roland, 
ministre  de  VInterieur,  par  la  Commune  de  Paris  et  dechire 
par  Danton,  est  atteste  par  tons  les  temoignages  du  temps." 
(Memoires  de  Madame  Roland,  vol.  I,  p.  32.) 

Madame  Roland  has  been  arraigned  by  the  apologist  of 
Marat  as  well  as  by  the  historian  of  Danton.  Mr.  E.  Belfort 
Bax,  the  Socialist  writer,  in  his  preface  to  Marat,  the  People's 
Friend,  rejoices  that  the  malignant  fabrications  of  Bar- 
baroux  and  Madame  Roland  have  been  sufficiently  exposed, 
"though  their  clumsiness  and  absurdity  are  such  as  to  render 
this  almost  superfluous."  Mr.  Bax,  whose  command  of 
invective  is  extensive,  and  probably  increased  by  study  of 
the  style  of  I'Ami  du  Peuple,  gives  no  examples  of  these 
exposures,  and  but  one  of  what  he  terms  "the  malicious  lies" 
of  Madame  Roland.  "The  representation  of  Marat  as  a 
hideous  ogre,  conducting  ladies  by  the  hand  into  costly 
furnished  apartments,  with  blue-and-white  damask  sofas, 
elegant  draperies,  superb  porcelain  vases,  is  too  absurdly  in 
contradiction  with  well-known  facts  to  have  been  worth  the 
making.  .  .  .  Madame  Roland,  be  it  observed,  took  care  to 
wait  till  long  after  Marat's  death  before  putting  forward  the 
slanders,  professing  to  deal  with  events  which,  had  they  really 
happened,  she  must  have  known  months  before,  and  which 
had  she  known,  she  would  assuredly  have  been  the  first  to 
publish  at  a  time  when  the  battle  between  'Mountain'  and 
'Gironde*  was  at  its  height."     (Marat,  pp.  190-1.) 

This  calumny,  too  absurd  for  refutation,  according  to 
Marat's  apologist,  is  found  in  the  Memoirs  (vol.  I,  pp.  320-1). 
"Ici  j'entends  citer  Marat,  chez  qui  les  papiers  publics 
annoncent  qu'on  a  trouve  a  sa  mort  un  seul  assignat  de  25 
sols:  quelle  edifiante  pauvrete !  Voyons  done  son  logement; 
c'est  Madame  Montane  qui  va  le  decrire.  Son  mari,  presi- 
dent du  tribunal  revolutionnaire,  est  detenu  a  la  Force,  pour 
n'avoir  pas  prononce  la  confiscation  des  biens  des  victimes 
d'Orleans.  EUe  a  ete  mise  a  Sainte-Pelagie  par  mesure  de 
surete,  est-il  dit,  mais  probablement  parce  qu'on  aura  craint 


APPENDIX  III  36s 

les  sollicitations  actives  de  cette  petite  femme  du  Midi,  Nee 
a  Toulouse,  elle  a  toute  la  vivacite  du  climat  ardent  sous 
lequel  elle  a  vu  le  jour;  cousine  germaine  de  Bonnecarrere  et 
tendrement  attachee  a  ce  parent  d'aimable  figure,  elle  fut 
desolee  de  son  arrestation,  faite  il  y  a  quelques  mois.  Elle 
s'etait  donne  beaucoup  de  peines  inutiles,  et  ne  savait  plus 
a  qui  s'adresser  lorsqu'elle  imagine  d'aller  trouver  Marat. 
Elle  se  fait  annoncer  chez  lui:  on  dit  qu'il  n'y  est  pas;  mais 
il  entend  la  voix  d'une  femme  et  se  presente  lui-meme: 
il  avait  aux  jambes  des  bottes  sans  bas,  portait  une  vieille 
culotte  de  peau,  une  veste  de  taffetas  blanc;  sa  chemise 
crasseuse  et  ouverte  laissait  voir  une  poitrine  jaunissante; 
des  ongles  longs  et  sales  se  dessinaient  au  bout  de  ses  doigts, 
et  son  afFreuse  figure  accompagnait  parfaitement  ce  costume 
bizarre.  II  prend  la  main  de  la  dame,  la  conduit  dans  un 
salon  tres  frais,  meuble  en  damas  bleu  et  blanc,  decore  de 
rideaux  de  soie  elegamment  releves  en  draperies,  d'un  lustre 
brillant  et  de  superbes  vases  de  porcelaine  remplis  de  fleurs 
naturelles,  alors  rares  et  de  haut  prix;  il  s'assied  a  cote  d'elle 
sur  une  ottomane  voluptueuse,  ecoute  le  recit  qu'elle  veut 
lui  faire,  s'interesse  a  elle,  lui  baise  la  main,  serre  un  peu  ses 
genoux,  et  lui  promet  la  liberte  de  son  cousin.  .  .  .  Le  soir 
meme  Marat  fut  au  comite,  et  Bonnecarrere  sortit  de 
I'Abbaye  le  lendemain;  mais  dans  les  vingt-quatre  heures 
I'Ami  du  peuple  ecrivit  au  president  Montane,  en  lui 
envoyant  un  sujet  auquel  il  s'agissait  de  rendre  un  service 
qu'il  fallut  bien  ne  pas  refuser." 

["Here  I  propose  to  cite  Marat:  the  newspapers  say  that 
only  one  assignat  of  twenty-five  sols  was  found  in  his  house 
after  his  death.  What  edifying  poverty !  Let  us  see  his 
lodgings  then;  Madame  Montane  will  describe  them.  Her 
husband,  president  of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  is  con- 
fined at  La  Force  for  not  having  decreed  the  confiscation  of 
the  property  of  the  victims  of  Orleans.  Born  in  Toulouse, 
she  has  all  the  vivacity  of  her  warm  native  climate;  she  is  a 
cousin  of  Bonnecarrere  [a  factotum  of  Dumouriez,  imprisoned 
after  the  general's  defection]  and  tenderly  attached  to  this 
handsome  relative;  she  was  in  despair  over  his  arrest  several 
months  ago.  She  took  much  useless  trouble  and  did  not 
know  to  whom  to  apply,  when  she  thought  of  going  to  Marat. 
She  gives  her  name  at  his  house;    she  is  told  he  is  not  in; 


366  APPENDIX  III 

he  hears  a  woman's  voice,  and  appears;  he  had  boots  on,  but 
no  stockings,  old  buckskin  breeches,  and  a  white  taffeta 
waistcoat;  his  soiled  shirt  was  open,  showing  his  yellowish 
breast;  his  finger-ends  showed  long  and  dirty  nails;  his 
frightful  face  perfectly  suited  this  bizarre  costume.  He  took 
the  lady  by  the  hand,  led  her  into  a  very  dainty  salouy 
furnished  in  blue-and-white  damask,  decorated  with  silk 
hangings  elegantly  draped,  with  a  brilliant  chandelier,  and 
superb  china  vases  filled  with  natural  flowers,  then  rare  and 
costly  [this  was  during  the  first  week  in  April,  1793].  H^ 
sat  down  beside  her  on  a  luxurious  sofa,  listened  to  her  story, 
became  interested  in  her,  kissed  her  hand,  clasped  her  knee, 
and  promised  her  the  cousin's  freedom.  .  .  .  That  same 
evening  Marat  was  at  the  comite  [de  surete  generate],  and 
Bonnecarrere  left  the  Abbaye  prison  the  next  morning;  but 
within  twenty-four  hours  the  Friend  of  the  People  wrote  to 
President  Montane,  sending  him  a  person  in  need  of  a  service 
which  there  was  no  way  of  refusing."] 

There  have  been  worse  tales  told  of  Marat  than  that  he 
spared  a  man  who  was  "suspect"  at  the  prayer  of  a  pretty 
woman,  and  the  sanguinary  "Friend  of  the  People"  generally 
appears  in  a  less  attractive  milieu  than  a  dainty  blue-and- 
white  drawing-room.  But  Marat  surprised  in  flagrante  delicto 
of  mercy  rouses  less  indignation  in  his  biographer  than  the 
picture  of  Marat  the  ascetic  sitting  on  a  damask  couch, 
Marat  the  austere  kissing  a  woman's  hand  or  smelling 
a  rose.  A  Marat  galant  and  elegant !  Truly  a  grotesque 
misrepresentation. 

Is  it  possible  that  Mr.  Bax  has  not  read  the  list  of  Marat's 
possessions  made  by  the  officers  of  the  law  when  the  seals 
were  placed  on  them  ?  Does  not  this  proces  verbal  {Greffe  de 
la  justice  de  paix  dii  Vie.  arrondissement)  confirm  Madame 
Montana's  description  ?  Has  not  Mr.  Bax  forgotten  the 
pictures  of  Hauer,  of  Garnerey,  and  of  Pffeifer,  all  of  them  so 
many  more  proofs  not  only  that  Marat  possessed  a  neat 
little  salon  but  that  Madame  Roland's  accuracy  is  more  im- 
peccable than  that  of  her  censor  ?  Would  not  a  comparison 
of  dates  have  shown  Mr.  Bax  that  one  of  several  obvious 
reasonswhyMadame  Roland  did  not  "put  forward  these  slan- 
ders" during  the  battle  between  the  Gironde  and  the  Moun- 
tain was  that  she  did  not  hear  them  until  after  Marat's 


APPENDIX  III  367 

death  (July  13th),  and  when  the  struggle  had  ended  in  the 
defeat  of  her  party  and  her  own  imprisonment  ?  It  was  after 
the  30th  of  July,  1793,  that  Madame  Montane  became  an 
inmate  of  Sainte-Pelagie,  where  Madame  Roland  was  con- 
fined. President  Montane  had  been  deprived  of  his  office  on 
that  date,  and  sent  to  La  Force  for  having  lacked  "energy'* 
in  two  trials.  Mr.  Bax  surely  remembers  the  first  one — 
that  of  Charlotte  Corday  on  the  17th  of  July — in  which 
Montane  showed  a  culpable  consideration  for  the  accused. 
It  was,  therefore,  two  weeks  at  least  after  Marat's  death 
that  Montana's  wife  told  her  story  to  Madame  Roland. 

Mr.  Morse  Stephens  is  apparently  possessed  of  a  secret 
fund  of  information  regarding  Madame  Roland,  He  tells 
us  that  "from  her  very  childhood  she  declares  that  she  had 
been  possessed  by  a  longing  for  social  equality,  and  had  been 
disgusted  when  but  a  mere  child  that  the  ladies  of  the  court 
should  be  able  to  dress  so  well."  (The  French  Revolution, 
vol.  II,  pp.  15-16.)  This  extraordinary  statement  of  Mr. 
Stephens's  is  unsupported  by  any  known  authority.  Dau- 
ban's  edition  of  the  Memoirs,  his  admirable  Etude  and  the 
Lettres  aux  Demoiselles  Cannet,  the  only  works  cited  by 
Mr.  Stephens,  do  not  contain  a  sentence  that  the  most 
prejudiced  could  distort  into  such  an  absurdity.  Per- 
haps this  curious  paragraph  is  intended  for  pleasantry;  it 
cannot  be  taken  seriously.  Dress  seems  to  stimulate  Mr. 
Stephens's  peculiar  humor,  for  he  further  remarks  in  seem- 
ing facetiousness  that  the  government  ministered  to  Marie 
Antoinette's  passion  for  it  while  she  was  confined  in  the 
Temple!  Madame  Roland  is  constantly  made  the  subject 
either  of  his  strange  playfulness  or  of  his  violent  prejudice 
against  her  opinions  and  her  party.  His  references  to  her 
are  almost  invariably  accompanied  by  reckless  misstate- 
ments, which  it  would  appear  almost  puerile  to  confute  did 
they  not  form  part  of  a  history  which  possesses  a  certain 
value  for  the  English  student  of  the  Revolution.  It  seems 
idle  to  refute  such  baseless  assertions  as  that  the  preparations 
for  the  rising  of  the  loth  of  August  were  "openly  discussed 
in  Madame  Roland's  salon,"  or  that  Buzot  deserted  his  wife 
for  her,  or  that  she  was  disgusted  with  the  Queen  "because 
she  had  not  yet  departed  out  of  the  way  to  make  room  for 


368  APPENDIX  III 

the  social  equality  which  would  leave  Madame  Roland  as 
the  leader  of  society."  Mr,  Stephens's  aversion  for  the 
Girondin  lady  so  impairs  his  accuracy  that  he  is  unable  to 
write  even  her  name  correctly.  From  unknown  authorities 
Mr.  Stephens  learned  that  Madame  Roland  "hated  the  Queen 
with  a  personal  hatred,  and  treated  her  with  a  want  of  respect 
and  brutality  of  language  which  she  must  have  repented 
bitterly  when  she  needed  pity  herself."  Where  and  when  ? 
Madame  Roland  never  met  Marie  Antoinette;  she  never  men- 
tions having  seen  her.  There  is  nothing  personal  in  her 
attitude  towards  the  Queen.  The  republican  suspected  the 
sovereign's  sincerity,  and  wisely;  the  patriot  feared  the 
Austrian  woman's  treachery  to  France,  wisely  again;  and 
the  wife  of  a  minister  who  believed  the  King  disposed  to 
favor  reforms  and  adopt  the  Constitution  dreaded  the  in- 
fluence of  Marie  Antoinette,  who  was  arrogant  and  med- 
dlesome, frivolous  and  arbitrary.  Nothing  that  Madame 
Roland  wrote  of  the  Queen  is  as  severe  as  the  judgments  of 
her  own  mother  and  brother,  of  Maria  Theresia  and  Joseph 
II.  A  phrase  in  Madame  Roland's  last  letter  to  Robespierre 
is  supposed  to  refer  to  Marie  Antoinette:  "/^/fww^  orgueilleuse 
ou  legere  qui  maudit  Vegalite" ;  the  letter,  however,  was  never 
sent.  Of  course,  after  the  publication  of  the  Arneth  letters, 
the  perjuries  of  the  King  and  Queen,  their  treachery  to  their 
people,  and  their  willingness  to  dismember  France,  suspected 
after  the  opening  of  "the  armoire  de  fevy"  have  become  his- 
toric certainties,  and  modern  historians  cannot  show  the 
Queen  the  indulgence  of  those  who  wrote  before  i860. 

Mr.  Stephens  may  be  as  inexact  when  he  studies  Madame 
Roland  as  when  for  a  contrast  to  her  enthusiasm  and  ambi- 
tion he  describes  Lucille  Desmoulins  as  "a  gentle  woman  with 
a  horror  of  riots  and  bloodshed."  Coquettish,  winning, 
feather-headed  Lucille,  if  we  may  trust  her  biographer,  M. 
Claretie,  was  as  violent  as  her  husband  of  the  sinister  name — 
"le  procureur  de  la  lanterne."  Possibly  Mr.  Stephens  has 
confused  the  opinions  of  the  two  ladies.  It  was  the  "wo- 
manly" Madame  Desmoulins  who  proposed  burning  Marie 
Antoinette  alive  on  a  funeral  pyre  (Camille  Desmoulins,  p. 
254),  and  who  laughed  over  Camille's  calumnies  with  the 
Jacobins  enrages,  her  husband's  friends. 


APPENDIX   IV 

CHARACTER  OF  THE  ASSEMBLY 

In  her  visits  to  the  Assembly  Manon  saw  nothing  to  re- 
verse the  judgments  formed  in  the  soHtude  of  Le  Clos.  If 
she  had  visited  the  scenes  of  her  girlhood  and  noted  with 
some  complacency  that  neither  wider  ambitions  nor  house- 
hold cares  had  dried  up  the  wells  of  her  heart,  it  was  in  a 
critical  mood  that  she  went  for  the  first  time  to  the  Assem- 
bly, "which  has  done  so  many  things  or  at  least  invested 
with  the  character  of  the  law  all  that  was  really  done  by 
the  force  of  circumstances  and  that  of  public  opinion." 

"If  I  had  not  been  a  patriot  [i.  e..  Revolutionist]  I  should 
have  become  one  watching  its  sittings,  so  evident  was  the 
bad  faith  of  the  Noirs  [Royalists],"  she  wrote  Bancal  (March 
7,  1791).  The  principal  deputies  were  rapidly  and  discrimi- 
natingly reviewed  and  labelled,  each  one  with  a  descriptive 
adjective.  She  heard  the  seductive  Lameths,  who  did  not 
seduce  her,  though  they  might  deceive  the  ignorant,  who  are 
as  susceptible  to  flattery  as  are  imbecile  persons.  She  was 
less  amused  by  the  wit  of  Maury,  who  could  speak  for  two 
hours  without  losing  a  moment  or  uttering  a  single  truth. 
Cazales's  eloquence  amazed  her,  and  after  the  death  of  Mira- 
beau  she  considered  him  the  first  French  orator.  Mirabeau 
was  the  only  man  of  the  Revolution  whose  genius  could 
impulser  an  Assembly.  He  was  great  by  his  gifts,  small  by 
his  vices,  but  always  superior  to  the  herd,  and  always  its 
master  when  he  deigned  to  take  the  trouble  to  command  it. 
He  died  just  in  time  for  his  fame  and  for  liberty.  "Events 
have  brought  me  to  regret  him  more.  A  man  of  his  strength 
was  needed  as  a  counterpoise  to  the  action  of  a  crowd  of 
curs." 

Manon  noticed  that  the  popular  "notions"  of  Barnave 
contained  more  adjectives  than  reasons,  more  pathos  than 
grandeur,  and  found  their  author  a  small  person  "cold  as  a 
squash  fricasseed  in  snow." 

On  the  whole,  Manon's  judgment  was  severe;  the  Assembly 

369 


370  APPENDIX  IV 

was  making  patchwork,  no  reform  was  carried  through, 
questions  of  finance,  the  most  important  of  all,  were  ad- 
journed, a  thousand  matters  were  brought  to  the  Assembly 
that  should  have  been  settled  elsewhere,  which  hindered  its 
proceedings  and  delayed  more  important  decisions. 

All  of  which  was  true,  but  were  not  Manon  and  her  party 
somewhat  to  blame  for  this  stay  of  proceedings?  When  she 
recommended  good  patriots  to  watch  the  Assembly,  the 
clubs  to  admonish  it,  thinking  people  to  write  and  furnish 
it  with  questions,  considerations,  suggestions  for  decrees 
and  projects  of  reform,  she  was  clogging  the  wheels  of  its 
advance  and  effectually  preventing  continuity  of  action. 
The  Assembly  was  then  the  authority  in  France,  and  it  was 
at  once  legislative  and  executive,  and  people  brought  their 
troubles  and  perplexities  to  it  as  they  once  carried  them  to 
Saint  Louis  sitting  beneath  his  tree.  The  Manege  where 
the  Assembly  met  was  the  theatre  of  many  scenes,  puerile, 
touching,  and  sometimes  noble,  living  testimonies  of  the  faith 
of  the  people  in  the  advent  of  justice. 

Manon  had  no  illusions  about  the  Revolutionists,  the 
Left  of  the  Assembly.  "I  saw  with  vexation  on  the  side 
of  the  'Noirs'  the  kind  of  superiority  conferred  in  such  as- 
semblies by  the  habit  of  appearing  in  public — by  purity 
of  language  and  by  distinction  of  manners.  But  forceful 
reason,  the  courage  of  uprightness,  the  enlightenment  of 
philosophy,  the  learning  of  the  study  and  the  ease  acquired 
at  the  Bar  should  insure  the  triumph  of  the  patriots."  The 
Left  were  all  of  them  pure  and  "  could  they  remain  united! ..." 
Madame  Roland's  keen  insight  detected  at  once  the  fatal 
weakness  of  the  new  party — its  lack  of  unity. 

She  soon,  however,  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  the  want 
of  noble  and  facile  eloquence  and  elegance  of  expression  in 
her  own  party:  the  golden  periods  of  Vergniaud,  the  terse, 
ardent  sentences  of  Buzot,  the  trenchant  satire  of  Gensonne, 
the  sparkling  sallies  of  Ducos,  of  Guadet,  made  of  the  Gironde 
the  party  of  wits  and  orators. 


APPENDIX   V 
THE  GIRONDINS 

Liberty  was  a  religion — hence  its  intolerance,  its  sectarian 
hatreds,  its  cruel  bigotry;  hence  also  its  devotion,  its  faith 
which  worked  miracles,  its  irresistible  force;  hence  its  hy- 
pocrisies, its  cant,  and  its  TartufFes. 

But  the  crimes  done  in  the  name  of  religion  we  forgive 
more  easily  than  those  committed  in  the  name  of  liberty. 
Reason  as  well  as  reverence  is  outraged  by  these.  "Let 
this  be  a  sign  that  you  love  one  another"  was  not  more 
violated  by  the  young  church  than  was  the  dictum  of  the 
Revolution,  "One  man's  liberty  ends  where  another's  be- 
gins," by  the  Terrorists. 

In  the  freezing  caves  of  Saint  Emilion,  in  the  stifling  garret 
and  dark  hiding-places,  infected  prison  cells,  none  of  the 
Girondins  ever  doubted  the  righteousness  of  their  cause,  the 
perfection  of  their  ideal.  They  died  in  the  faith.  It  was  not 
the  Republic  that  was  at  fault,  it  was  men  who  were  un- 
worthy of  it,  incapable  of  rising  to  the  moral  height  it  de- 
mands. The  vision  of  perfect  government  remained  un- 
dimmed  in  the  imagination  of  its  devotees;  their  failure  to 
realize  it  in  no  wise  impaired  their  convictions.  It  was  al- 
ways the  perfect  commonwealth,  and  when  conquered  and 
disillusioned  the  sanctuary  they  sought  was  a  sister  repub- 
lic, that  of  the  United  States.  It  was  towards  America  that 
the]  discouraged  deputies  turned  after  Wimpfen's  defeat,  to 
an  America  which  they  had  learned  to  love  and  perhaps  to 
idealize  from  Brissot's  eulogies  and  the  enthusiasm  inspired 
by  the  companions  of  Lafayette. 

All  of  them  men  of  culture,  of  trained  minds,  they  were 
fervent  disciples  of  the  philosophy  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
They  believed  in  the  authority  of  reason,  the  return  to  nature, 
in  human  fraternity.  Liberty,  equality,  were  not  then 
terms  that  had  been  dragged  in  the  mud,  mouthed  by  vulgar 
demagogues,  invoked  by  envy  and  license.     No  crimes  had 

371 


372  APPENDIX  V 

yet  been  committed  in  their  names;  they  were  still  virgins, 
kindling  a  vestal  flame  in  generous  hearts. 

Liberty,  like  patrie,  was  a  being,  a  yearning  to  be  incarnated 
by  desire  and  will.  It  was  a  practical  reality  as  well:  the 
protection  of  the  individual,  the  emancipation  of  mind  and 
conscience,  the  abolition  of  the  rules  of  serfdom  on  feudal 
soil.  Equality  implied  the  suppression  of  caste  privileges, 
the  uniform  levy  of  taxes,  the  admission  of  all  classes  to  all 
public  functions,  the  parity  of  all  before  the  law — the  Law 
to  which  Liberty  itself  is  subject. 

In  "r Amour  de  la  Liberte^  c'esi-d-dire  de  la  regie  suivant 
la  nature  des  choses  humaines,"  the  Girondins  took  issue  in 
their  faith  in  a  disciplined  liberty  with  the  Mountain,  who 
believed  theoretically  in  unrestrained  individual  liberty  or 
individualism. 

It  was  because  the  Mountain  did  believe  theoretically  only 
in  unlimited  liberty  and  practised  obsolete  tyranny  that  it 
overcame  adversaries  who  acted  in  good  faith  and  whose 
general  attitude  conformed  to  their  principles.  The  Giron- 
dins considered  interests  of  humanity  and  not  the  interests 
of  the  moment.  Their  objective  attitude — this  putting  the 
greater  issue  above  the  smaller  issue — sent  them  unarmed  to 
death,  but  made  them  live  again  in  the  minds  of  those  "who 
like  them  would  see  a  Republic  founded  on  justice." 

The  honor  of  the  Girondins,  their  rehabilitation,  was  what 
preoccupied  them.  Life  they  expected  to  sacrifice;  no  real 
Revolutionist  rated  that  highly;  but  to  restore  their  good 
name,  to  justify  themselves  in  the  eyes  of  their  constituents, 
of  their  countrymen,  this  they  counted  a  sacred  duty,  and 
for  this  they  unfalteringly  endured  cold  and  hunger  and 
darkness  and  fear.     The  hope  of  justification  kept  them  alive. 

What  distinguishes  strategically  the  group  of  the  Girondins 
from  their  adversaries  was  that  in  them  the  personal  indi- 
viduality prevalent  to-day  found  larger  manifestation  than  in 
the  Mountain.  The  Girondins  were  all  too  equally  matched 
in  ability.  They  could  not  act  together,  because  they  had 
pushed  individual  expansion  to  the  point  where  it  hinders 
social  development.  With  many  personal  virtues,  the 
Gironde  lacked  social  virtue.     A  coalition  of  many  intelli- 


/        APPENDIX  V  373 

gences  will  never  possess  the  working  power  of  a  faction 
dominated  by  a  single  mind.  When  there  are  too  many- 
superior  minds  they  cease  to  be  superior.  The  eminence  of 
one  will  necessarily  limit  the  eminence  of  his  fellow.  All 
possess  value,  but  the  value  is  not  mobilized.  Spain  with 
her  glut  of  Indian  gold  was  not  more  impoverished  through 
excess  of  treasure  than  was  the  Gironde  with  her  plethora  of 
golden  mouths. 

Had  the  Gironde  possessed  but  one  orator  instead  of  many, 
one  writer  instead  of  a  legion,  a  unique  genius  would  have 
become  a  mouthpiece  for  the  whole  party  and  would  have 
unified  its  thought  and  its  suffrages  in  one  eloquent  utterance. 
In  such  a  republic  of  talent  the  evenly  endowed  mass  of 
individuals  struggle  for  personal  existence  one  against 
another.  Vergniaud  found  as  many  critics  as  admirers  in 
his  own  party.  The  Mountain,  composed  largely  of  men 
lacking  in  eloquence  and  literary  culture,  found  its  paucity 
of  genius  a  source  of  strength  over  its  brilliant  adversary. 
An  aristocracy  of  intellect  that  is  not  an  oligarchy  exhausts 
itself  in  vain  emulations. 

Madame  Roland  shared  "the  crime  of  the  Girondins,  which 
was  to  have  believed  that  all  parts  of  French  territory  were 
equally  penetrated  by  the  new  spirit"  (Quinet).  France 
cannot  forgive  them  for  overestimating  her.  But  does  any 
people  ever  become  worthy  of  liberty  until  it  is  acquired .? 
Is  it  not  the  exercise  of  it  which  renders  them  worthy  of  their 
possession  of  it  ? 

The  optimism  of  naturally  virtuous  natures  is  too  often 
the  stumbling-block  to  the  reforms  which  they  would  estab- 
lish. The  existence  of  evil  and  of  evil  natures  must  be  fully 
recognized  and  taken  into  account,  and  the  formidable  power 
of  ignorance.  It  is  not  enough  to  oppose  the  true  to  the 
false.  Visions  are  deflected  and  do  not  recognize  the  majesty 
of  truth.  And  a  mental  assent  may  be  given  to  what  is  no 
bridle  to  desire,  no  curb  to  appetite,  to  what  has  no  appre- 
ciable eflTect  on  conduct. 

Liberty,  in  its  very  nature,  is  bound  to  be  merciful.  It 
cannot  employ  the  resources  of  tyranny;  hence  its  apparent 
and  often  real  weakness;  it  cannot  " contrains-les  d'entrer." 


374  APPENDIX  V 

The  Girondin  distrust  of  the  Constitutionalists  was  justi- 
fied by  events.  Their  beHef  in  the  people,  in  the  virtuous- 
ness  of  poverty,  in  the  sanctity  of  the  simple  life,  their  lack 
of  knowledge  of  the  world  and  somewhat  naive  distrust  of 
their  social  superiors,  were  natural  enough  when  we  consider 
the  humiliations  to  which  they  had  been  exposed.  Their 
mental  culture  was  far  superior  to  their  social  culture. 
Enthusiasm,  generosity,  a  lofty  ideal,  ardent  imagination, 
the  artist's  nature  rather  than  the  politician's  inspired  them; 
the  France  of  republican  ideals,  of  the  federations,  of  true 
fraternity,  was  the  Girondin  France.  The  policy  of  the 
Committees  of  the  Commune,  of  the  Mountain,  was  a  return 
to  mediaeval  and  barbaric  methods  of  government.  It  was 
not  because  the  Girondins  were  conservative  but  because 
they  were  true  radicals  that  they  opposed  the  measures  of 
the  popular  party.  The  counter-revolution,  a  term  first 
employed  by  Buzot,  and  afterwards  by  Quinet — the  nega- 
tion of  the  principles  of  the  Revolution — began  after  the 
rise  of  the  Commune  and  the  massacres  of  September. 
Danton,  Robespierre,  the  partisans  of  violence,  were  reac- 
tionaries. The  real  men  of  progress  were  the  Girondins. 
The  theory  of  that  Republic  was  supplied  by  the  Gironde. 
Condorcet  formulated  the  philosophy  of  the  Revolution. 

At  the  present  moment  it  is  not  difficult  to  deal  impar- 
tially with  the  group  of  brilliant  men  which  formed  the 
Gironde.  They  are  not  as  popular  now  as  they  were  with 
Sainte  Beuve  and  the  republicans  of  the  last  century.  Their 
political  rivals  are  again  in  the  ascendant,  and  the  heroes 
of  the  Mountain  are  those  of  the  hour.  For  there  are 
fashions  in  writing  history  as  well  as  in  making  hats,  and 
each  opinion  has  its  day.  Neither  the  author  nor  the  mil- 
liner is  a  freeman.  The  most  original  thinker  is  influenced 
by  the  climate  of  opinion,  and  the  bias  not  only  of  the  his- 
torian but  of  his  public  is  visible  in  his  work.  We  are  con- 
stantly reminded  that  the  history  of  the  Revolution  is  still 
the  closed  lists  of  literary  and  political  antagonists.  No 
series  of  events  has  been  viewed  more  diversely,  no  period 
has  been  subject  to  greater  successive  fluctuations,  as  well 
as  contemporary  differences,  of  opinion.  A  typical  example 
of  this  mutability  is  afforded  by  the  lives  of  Danton's  family. 


APPENDIX  V  375 

After  his  death  his  second  wife  returned  to  her  father,  re- 
sumed her  maiden  name,  and  soon  afterwards  remarried. 
During  the  course  of  a  long  life  she  never  spoke  of  her  first 
husband.  Danton's  two  sons  were  brought  up  by  their 
mother's  family.  For  many  years  after  they  reached  man- 
hood they  lived  alone  in  their  father's  house  at  Arcis-sur- 
Aube.  The  blood  of  September,  the  blood  that  had  stifled 
their  mother,  ran  between  them  and  the  villagers.  "Que 
mon  nom  soit  fletri!"  Danton  cried  in  one  of  his  oratorical 
flights,  forgetful  of  the  innocent  he  condemned  to  obloquy 
and  isolation.  Their  loneliness  was  deeply  felt  by  the 
younger  of  the  sons,  Georges  Danton,  who,  born  during  the 
storms  of  1792,  was  especially  nervous  and  susceptible.  The 
shy,  silent  men  were  pitied  and  perhaps  respected  by  their 
townsfolk,  but  their  name  still  struck  terror. 

In  1848,  the  year  of  revolutions,  came  a  change  of  things, 
and  the  people  of  Arcis,  hearing  the  praises  of  their  illus- 
trious fellow  citizen  from  all  quarters,  decided  to  make  tardy 
amends  to  his  sons.  It  was  resolved  by  the  municipal  coun- 
cil that  the  first  tree  of  liberty  raised  to  commemorate  the 
new-born  republic  should  be  a  poplar  from  the  Dantons' 
garden.  A  delegation  accompanied  by  the  village  band 
and  the  usual  quantity  of  unoccupied  citizens,  who  add 
numbers  if  not  dignity  to  such  manifestations,  arrived  at 
the  silent  house.  The  Dantons,  in  answer  to  their  summons, 
appeared  at  the  door;  the  municipal  council  saluted  them, 
the  crowd  hurrahed,  music  sounded,  all  the  voices  burst  into 
the  "Marseillaise,"  and  Georges  Danton  fell  down  senseless 
at  their  feet;  he  died  two  months  later.  Sympathy  and 
recognition  had  come  too  late. 

Danton's  statue  is  now  the  pride  of  Arcis;  for  not  skies 
but  souls  change,  and  the  Dantons'  is  the  story  of  many 
families  of  the  Revolution.  At  first,  when  the  hurricane 
of  the  Terror  died  away,  the  survivors  buried  their  dead 
and  rebuilt  their  ruined  homes  in  a  stunned  silence.  Those 
who  had  sown  the  storm  and  reaped  the  whirlwind  were 
very  quiet.  The  bravest  of  their  sons  had  no  desire  to  wake 
the  dead  from  their  bloody  sleep.  They  made  themselves 
small,  they  changed  their  names,  sometimes  their  habitat. 
The  armies  of  the  Empire  were  filled  with  the  children  of 
the  Revolution.     Those  who  once  had  made  it  glorious  or 


376  APPENDIX  V 

infamous  mutely  agreed  to  ignore  the  past;  they  despaired 
of  the  Republic.  Such  memoirs  as  were  written  were  the 
apologies  or  recantations  of  those  who  had  been  fair-weather 
friends  of  the  Revolution,  as  they  were  later  partisans  of 
Napoleon,  or  adherents  of  the  Bourbons.  Across  the  fron- 
tier, or  in  tiny  hamlet,  or  obscure  Paris  street,  the  old  con- 
ventionnels  remained  dumb  and  almost  forgotten* 

This  cowed  silence  was  broken  by  a  woman's  voice.  In 
her  Considerations  sur  la  Revolution,  Madame  de  Stael 
separated  its  principles  and  ideals  from  the  crimes  of  the 
Terror,  and  people  began  to  perceive  what  had  long  been 
obscured  by  a  bloody  mist.  First  to  emerge  from  this  sinister 
cloud  were  the  Girondins,  "ces  belles  figures  humaines"  the 
heroes  of  Lamartine's  historical  romance.  The  liberal,  were 
he  Frenchman  or  foreigner,  could  understand  the  attitude 
and  admire  the  aim  of  the  Girondin  whose  desire  to  save 
the  King,  punish  the  assassins  of  September,  and  resist  the 
tyranny  of  a  minority  were  his  undoing,  while  his  passionate 
loyalty  to  his  ideal  republic,  and  the  accusation  of  federalism 
did  not  lessen  the  sympathies  of  the  American  democrat. 

With  the  revolutions  of  1830  and  1848  feeling  changed 
more  radically.  "The  Men  of  '93  were  giants,"  cried  Victor 
Hugo's  Marius  to  his  shocked  Royalist  grandfather,  and  he 
was  the  spokesman  of  enthusiastic  youth.  The  sanguinary 
despotism  of  the  Second  Empire  inflamed  this  ardor.  After 
its  shameful  fall,  after  the  invasion  of  France  and  the  shrink- 
age of  her  boundaries.  Frenchmen  turned  from  their  present 
humiliation  to  memories  of  a  patria  triumphant  over  a  coali- 
tion of  kings.  Out  of  these  memories  grew  gratitude  to  "the 
organizers  of  victory,"  Carnot,  Cambon,  Merlin  de  Thion- 
ville,  Jean  Bon  Saint  Andre,  and  Danton.  Finally  Robes- 
pierre and  Saint  Just  were  rehabilitated,  and  Socialism 
welcomed  a  forerunner  in  Marat.  The  workers  and  ad- 
ministrators, the  men  of  action  who  had  long  been  confused 
with  the  mere  brawlers  and  butchers,  have  come  to  their 
own  again,  sometimes  to  more  than  their  due,  for  the  pendu- 
lum is  swinging  very  far  Terrorward,  and  there  were  few 
better  Jacobins  in  '93  than  many  French  writers  are  to-day. 
Danton's  statue  is  a  familiar  Parisian  landmark,  Marat's 
image  is  soon  to  be  set  up,  and  the  envious  shade  of  Robes- 
pierre need  not  despair  of  future  honors.    Naturally  enough. 


APPENDIX  V  377 

there  is  a  reaction  in  public  opinion  against  this  rather  un- 
discriminating  glorification  of  Terrorists.  Unfortunately, 
it  is  as  often  muscadin  as  republican,  and  consequently 
tainted  with  snobbishness,  but  ability  and  talent  and,  what 
is  quite  as  effective,  public  funds  and  official  patronage  are 
on  the  side  of  the  Sansculottes.  Between  the  radical  and 
the  reactionary  the  Gironde  fares  ill;  at  present  the  spot- 
light is  on  the  Mountain;  its  old  rival  is  in  momentary 
eclipse.  The  Girondins  have  had  their  season;  they  must 
wait  for  another  turn  of  the  wheel  to  come  up  again  into 
the  sunshine  of  popularity. 

But  old  fashions  are  always  returning,  modes  of  thought 
as  well  as  the  vesture  of  thought.  We  shall  go  back  to  the 
bonnets  of  the  thirties  and  the  heroes  of  Vatel.  There  are 
already  portents  of  a  revulsion  of  public  opinion.  The  moral 
sense  and  the  common  sense  of  the  community  are  alike 
rebellious  against  laudations  of  inhuman  theorists  and  fe- 
rocious demagogues.  Men  grow  as  tired  of  hearing  Robes- 
pierre praised  as  Barere  did  of  hearing  Roland  called  the 
Just;  perhaps  even  more  so,  as  paradoxes  are  more  weari- 
some than  platitudes.  En  attendant,  the  Girondins,  I  repeat, 
in  spite  of  such  winning  and  elevated  studies  of  them  as 
Auguste  Rey's  Le  Naturaliste  BosCy  and  Camille  Perroud's 
Brissot,  are  in  the  shade. 


APPENDIX  VI 
THE  METHODS  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN 

The  Societes  Populaires  were  an  idea  of  Lanthenas,  who 
founded  thirty  of  them  in  Lyons  alone.  It  was  M.  Roland's 
idea  (and  a  fatal  one  for  his  wife)  to  create  a  bureau  of  special 
correspondence  with  these  societies,  to  send  them  free  printed 
matter  to  instruct  or  interest  them,  and  to  pay  orators  to 
address  them.  The  plan  once  elaborated,  it  was  necessary 
to  have  it  accepted  by  the  Assembly  and  to  obtain  the  funds 
such  a  plan  required.  Roland  had  refused  to  sanction  it 
during  his  first  ministry,  but  after  the  loth  of  August  it  was 
adopted.  This  was  in  the  eyes  of  the  Mountain  Madame 
Roland's  crime  against  the  Republic.  The  methods  of  the 
Mountain  were  different  and  vastly  more  effective.  To 
appeal  to  the  minds  of  a  constituency  is  a  slow  and  uncertain 
process;  to  appeal  to  its  appetite  is  a  swift  and  practical  one. 

It  was  a  crime  for  Roland  to  spend  thirty-six  thousand 
francs  on  a  series  of  brochures,  a  republican  propaganda  of 
political  tracts  sent  into  the  country,  explaining  the  nature 
of  liberty,  the  machinery  of  government,  etc.  It  was  meri- 
torious of  Danton  to  spend  three  hundred  thousand  for  the 
same  avowed  purpose. 

(See  extract  from  Louvet's  letter.) 

In  order  to  excuse  the  crimes  of  the  prominent  Terrorists, 
their  patriotism,  their  austere  enthusiasm,  the  purity  and 
probity  of  their  private  life  have  been  extolled.  They  were 
Spartan  heroes  sending,  with  fortitude  recalling  that  of 
Brutus,  hecatombs  of  victims  to  be  sacrificed  on  the  altar. 
They  shed  innocent  blood  because  they  sincerely  believed 
that  the  safety  of  the  country  demanded  holocausts.  Solemn 
and  devout,  they  killed  and  prosecuted  with  the  detachment 
of  a  Grand  Inquisitor.  Their  ruthlessness  was  religious, 
impersonal,  exercised  in  the  service  of  an  idea;  though  fero- 
cious, they  were  virtuous,  exalted,  fanatical,  single-minded. 

378 


APPENDIX  VI  379 

Their  disinterestedness  was  supposed  to  be  proved  by  their 
irreproachable  conduct  in  their  private  relations.  fVas  it 
irreproachable  ?  The  giants  of  '93,  looming  through  a  red 
mist,  are  formidable,  grandiose,  like  the  Molochs  of  antiq- 
uity, rising  dimly  terrible  behind  the  smoke  of  streaming 
altars  and  blurring  clouds  of  censers.  But  a  closer  inspection 
attenuates  this  impression.  The  written  records  silence  the 
eloquence  that  has  celebrated  the  disinterestedness  of  the 
Revolutionary  leaders.  How  dead  falls  the  thunderbolt  of 
oratory  when  it  strikes  a  worn  bit  of  paper,  a  stamped  and 
dated  entry  in  some  dusty  public  record.  Saint-Just,  Herault 
de  Sechelles,  Jullien  de  Paris — these  colossi  are  but  vulgar 
politicians,  hungering  for  rule  or  money,  each  preoccupied 
with  personal  aims,  each  with  his  following  of  needy  and 
complaisant  friends.  Theirs  are  the  methods  of  political 
rings:  payment  of  writers,  bullying,  bribing,  gross  flattery 
of  ignorance,  exaltation  of  the  average  man  over  the  excep- 
tional man,  shameless  distribution  of  privileges  and  places. 
Here  are  all  the  modern  tricks,  all  the  open  favor  shown  the 
cafe  or  the  brasserie  where  "pure"  patriots  congregate. 

The  men  of  '93  would  have  been  merely  vulgar  politicians 
had  not  their  crimes  been  so  great.  A  certain  kind  of  base- 
ness seems  to  be  the  product  of  a  new-born  democracy — seems 
only,  for  these  knights  of  industry  have  generally  learned 
their  trade  under  an  older  regime,  like  the  Abbe  d'Espagnac, 
an  old  factotum  of  Calonne  or  Pereyra,  the  soi-disant  tobac- 
conist, who  trafficked  in  suspicious  peculations,  as  well  as 
Proly,  who  was  a  spy,  the  two  Jews  Frey,  whose  sister  married 
Chabot,  and  Dietrichsen,  Gusman,  and  the  Baron  de  Batz. 
This  vermin  infested  the  passages  of  the  Assembly.  Thanks 
to  the  complicity  of  the  needy  deputies  and  their  early 
knowledge  of  public  measures,  which  they  owed  to  friends 
in  the  Comite  du  Salut  Public,  they  made  fortunes  out  of 
a  starving  France,  while  Frenchmen,  already  unwilling  vic- 
tims of  arbitrary  laws  and  suffering  general  poverty,  opened 
the  march  of  the  coming  Terror  by  the  insouciant  destruction 
of  commerce  and  industry,  while  the  Demos  issued  a  new 
revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes  and  again  attacked  the 
skilled  artisan  and  the  industrial  arts. 

The  Mountain  declared  its  belief  in  justice,  too,  but  decided 
to  put  off  the  practice  of  it  until  a  more  opportune  time.    The 


38o  APPENDIX  VI 

Gironde,  on  the  contrary,  believed  that  if  justice  and  right 
are  indeed  sacred  things,  the  very  time  to  put  them  to  the 
proof  is  during  storm  and  stress.  The  one  article  of  faith 
held  in  common  by  the  Girondins,  whatever  their  beliefs  or 
unbeliefs  in  other  things  celestial,  was  an  impassioned  con- 
viction of  the  existence  of  a  divine  justice.  Where  ?  In  their 
own  hearts  and  in  those  of  their  fellow  men .?  Without 
them  as  a  reality  ?  Within  them  as  a  great  desire  ?  Who 
knew  ?  Who  could  locate  this  necessity  of  the  soul  ?  Justice 
was  the  new  divinity  of  men,  bent  on  redressing  the  wrongs 
of  a  thousand  years;  justice — not  grace — the  appanage  of 
kings,  to  be  dispensed  by  favor. 


APPENDIX  VII 
THE  SALON  OF  MADAME  ROLAND 

This  was  a  society  of  partisans  composed  of  grave  folk 
occupied  with  serious  matters,  mostly  Girondins,  Its  tone 
was  thoughtful  but  not  solemn.  The  lightness  of  hand  which 
the  French  display  in  all  social  discussion,  even  of  the  pro- 
foundest  subjects,  saved  it  from  pedantry,  and  the  presence 
of  women,  even  such  serious-minded  women  as  the  femmes 
politiques,  imposed  on  it  a  certain  good  humor.  The  dinners 
followed  by  discussions  (during  which  the  project  for  the 
Societes  Populaires  of  Lanthenas  was  perfected)  took  place 
on  Mondays  and  Thursdays.  Soon,  however,  the  popular 
government  found  these  simple  dinners,  these  reunions  of 
friends  and  colleagues,  a  menace  to  the  liberties  of  the  people. 
A  supper  was  necessarily,  according  to  Pere  Duchesne,  a 
meeting  of  conspirators.  The  guest  of  yesterday  denounces 
his  hostess.  Danton,  who  a  few  months  before  "venait  vie  de- 
mander  la  soupe  presque  tons  les  jours  "  sends  Madame  Roland 
to  the  scaffold.  Camille  Desmoulins  thinks  the  Rolands'  re- 
ceptions "suspect"  only  a  short  time  before  his  own  wife's 
were  denounced  by  the  spies  of  Robespierre,  whom  he  had 
invited  to  them.  Madame  Roland  knew  all  her  enemies 
well;  they  had  sat  at  her  table,  they  had  listened  with 
deep  attention  to  her  words,  in  order  to  use  them  next  day 
in  the  .  .  . 

By  a  wide  distribution  of  literature,  she  and  her  party 
endeavored  to  educate  the  nation  in  liberty  and  the  sane 
exercise  of  its  newly  acquired  rights.  Speakers  and  lecturers 
were  sent  out  from  headquarters  at  the  ministry  all  over 
France.  Dinners  and  social  reunions  kept  the  chiefs  of  the 
party  together,  where  woman's  tact  and  the  amenities  of  the 
drawing-room  healed  the  slight  breaches  and  diminished  fric- 
tion, and  where  measures  were  discussed  and  policies  adopted. 

381 


382  APPENDIX  VII 

She  was  a  political  woman  who  owed  her  position  and  in- 
fluence to  her  own  industry  and  talent,  almost  the  unique 
"self-made"  woman  in  the  political  world.  To  the  duties 
of  a  mother  and  housewife,  at  a  time  when  housekeeping  in- 
cluded all  the  domestic  industries,  she  added  the  achieve- 
ments of  an  honorable  and  able  man — the  study  of  economic 
conditions,  close  personal  contact  with  the  most  oppressed 
class  of  the  people,  and  the  practical  experience  of  the  farmer. 
Her  idealism  was  qualified  by  her  acceptance  of  the  reality 
of  life,  and  her  humdrum  tasks  were  sweetened  by  her  way  of 
performing  them.  Her  methods  were  always  direct.  Small 
wonder  that  she  embodied  for  the  brilliant  men  of  her  fol- 
lowing the  republican  idea  in  its  purest  form;  amid  tergi- 
versations she  never  wavered;  in  a  world  where  people 
clamored  for  their  rights,  and  especially  for  the  right  to 
happiness,  she  sacrificed  hers  and  that  of  the  man  she  loved 
to  duty.  She  made  no  specious  distinctions  between  public 
and  private  morality,  and  would  have  the  republic  served 
with  clean  hands.  The  flights  of  her  enthusiasm  were  bal- 
lasted with  good  sense.  .  .  . 

All  the  legitimate  means  of  shaping  public  opinion,  of 
securing  the  triumph  of  ideas,  were,  if  not  discovered,  de- 
veloped and  amplified  by  Madame  Roland.  It  was  not  only 
for  her  political  opinions  that  she  was  put  to  death,  it  was 
for  the  propaganda  of  her  opinions.  Women  had  often  pos- 
sessed political  power,  they  had  won  it  by  base  means,  they 
had  inherited  it  or  usurped  it.  Madame  Roland  earned  it. 
It  is  this  honesty  of  means  and  nobility  of  purpose  that  make 
the  study  of  her  methods  worth  while;  that  invest  it  with 
permanent  value  for  the  busy  modern  student  of  poHtics  or 
history.  Madame  Roland  points  a  modern  moral;  she  is  of 
our  own  time;  her  spirit  lives  to-day.  Her  contemporaries, 
the  queens  and  courtesans  who  spent  the  money  and  shed 
the  blood  of  the  people,  the  Pompadours  and  Du  Barrys, 
the  Antoinettes  and  Theresias,  seem  very  far  away.  They 
belong  to  the  old  order,  their  language  is  not  ours,  their 
theories  of  life  are  outworn.  The  daughter  of  the  people  has 
a  message  for  us,  the  citoyenne  of  the  first  French  Republic 
is  one  with  us.    Her  credo,  her  illusions,  her  errors  are  ours. 


APPENDIX  VII  383 

There  is  as  much,  perhaps  more,  to  be  learned  from  her  mis- 
takes as  from  her  successes.  Her  partisanship,  her  scorn 
of  compromises,  her  intense  party  feeHng,  her  momentary 
and  bitterly  repented  sanction  of  violence  color  but  do  not 
darken  her  radiant  memory. 


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